


Denial

by Menirva



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Brief mention of past underage sex, It's a brothel, Multi, OTB, Sassy Barsad, Various pairings because uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 59,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menirva/pseuds/Menirva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barsad is one sassy whore, and he's good at it, earns his generous tips.  When a new hire comes to the brothel, Blake, Barsad is expected to show him the ropes.  Aside from general annoyance, his only concern is how his best client, Bane, will take to being watched...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fantasy and not at all a realistic portrayal of prostitution in brothels I'm sure. I feel that's fairly obvious but that it just needed to be said as well. Fic is set in an AU where prostitution is legal in Gotham but still looked upon as taboo.

Barsad knew that they would be getting a new acquisition at the brothel that week. He did not know, however, that he was the one that was expected to show him the ropes.

“I am fairly certain that it has to be Selina’s turn.”

Ra’s barely spared him an amused look as he went over paperwork. “You know full well that she refuses to train males. You have the lightest schedule this week.”

He bit back a slight sigh. He did; he had planned it in advance. He had been looking forward to the break.   
“I have Bane scheduled for several visits. He won’t agree.”

Ra’s glanced up at him. “Bane never tells you no anymore, now, does he? I wonder how it is that you’ve managed to schedule him for several visits and yet your workload is the lightest I’ve seen it in some time…”

Barsad rarely found himself speechless, and now was not the proper time for such a thing to suddenly take hold of his tongue. He finally rolled his shoulders into a relaxed shrug.  “He has vacation. He asked if I could make it a memorable one, so I pulled some strings.”

“He must have saved up quite a bit for it. Double whatever discount you keep giving him, and I doubt he’ll protest much.”  Ra’s al Ghul did not know Bane nearly as well as Barsad did if he thought such a thing, and he only gave Bane a discount because he was such a good client and tipper. Still, there was little point in arguing.

“Very well.”

He found him in the hall, slender but clearly with a strong frame of lean muscle, a duffel slung over his shoulder, looking like he hadn’t yet grown into his ears, a fact made all the more obvious by his shortly-cropped hair. Ra’s had been smart to get him to sign up with his house; he had a smooth baby face that a lot of the clients were sure to enjoy when they fucked his mouth.

The brothel he worked for may not have been the largest of those to be found in Gotham’s red-light district, but it was the cleanest, the most efficient, the most discrete, and that made it one of the busiest. Ra’s was fair, a large part of their earnings went towards room and board, but they still received a decent salary and tips were theirs to keep. Barsad worked quite hard for his tips.

“You’re Blake?”

“John Blake, yeah.”

“Go by Blake, they’ll like it more. I’m Barsad; come on, then.” He wanted to get a chance to eat and clean up before his first appointment. Truth be told, he had slept in rather soundly that morning thinking he would have time for it.

“You work here?” Blake asked, trailing after him and glancing around at the different closed doors.

“I do, yes.”

“Aren’t you kind of… scruffy for a hooker?”  He could sense Blake’s eyes looking over him as they walked to the kitchen.

“You are looking quite closely enough to see that I am not without my appeal. I’m booked today, though, and I frankly doubt you can afford me.”

There was a slight choking noise from behind him.

“I’m not gay,” Blake argued.

“Oh good,” Barsad spoke cheerfully. “Be sure to tell each of the men you fuck that. They will find it charming.”

“It’s called gay for pay, jackass.”

“Oh yes, we have a special term for that here. Denial.”

There was a muttered curse of “fucker” behind him. Barsad mostly ignored it. He was good looking, but they had their fair share of that here and he wasn’t very much interested in fooling around with the ‘other merchandise’; he’d gotten that out of his system a while ago.

“Here is the kitchen. It is kept stocked fairly well. We take turns doing the shopping. We take turns doing most things; it cuts down on staff and means we have to pay out less to Ra’s.”

Blake nodded. “I’m used to doing that stuff on my own.”

Barsad found he approved of him a bit more. He’d heard more than one person complain about having to do their own laundry, the pampered little whores. “Have you eaten?”

“Nah, I can make us eggs, though.” Barsad was surprised by the offer, but helped him find his way around the kitchen after they tossed Blake’s duffel onto a chair. He was fast, efficient, and soon they were eating.

“I used to work in the kitchen,” Blake explained.

“What kitchen?”

Blake paused. “Just… a kitchen.”

He showed him his room, got him settled.

“The house pays for condoms and lube; anything else you want to use, though, get a client to buy it for you—” He stopped and raised an eyebrow when John looked near scarlet. “Have you ever even done this before?”

“I… what? Yeah, I just… a couple of videos… It just feels different, ok, that was doing it for a camera. It was over and done in a shoot. This is like, day in and day out.”

“If you do not feel comfortable doing it, the last thing Ra’s wants in his house is an unwilling whore.”

“No, no.” Blake shook his head, but Barsad observed the slight flinch at the word. “I do. I really can do this. It’s just going to take some adjusting.”

“Do not worry. Your testing results won’t come back until the end of the week, so you are just settling in now, anyway.” Ra’s had everyone tested before they started, and then tested again at routine intervals to make sure everything stayed clean.

“I haven’t got anything.”

“Says everyone, clean or dirty. We let the blood results speak for themselves, here. I have an appointment in an hour. Get cleaned up and come watch.”

Blake stared. “WATCH?”

“There’s a lot more to this than just laying back, Blake.”

“No, I know that, but I mean… Won’t the guys you’re with care?”

“Nah, they get a discount, plus some of them get off on it.” He chuckled and Blake even laughed with him. He found himself giving him a slight pat on the shoulder. He seemed like a good fit there, even if he was nervous.

“Let’s see you.”

Blake snorted. “And you accused me of looking at you earlier.”

“I just want to see what you’re working with.” It was true. He was being asked to help John for a reason, after all. It would be important to assess him, so to speak, and if he was being completely honest, Blake looked like he had a very nice ass hidden away in his jeans.

His theory proved correct, and Barsad was pleased to note that Blake at least didn’t seem skittish when it came to peeling off his clothing, shucking it off without a second thought. Barsad made a mental note to have him try to practice making it into more of a show. He had nothing to be shy about at all, smooth, tight skin, lean muscle. He chuckled slightly.  “Not bad. There are many men who will want to be able to suck on a pretty cock like that.”

John swallowed. “Well, that’s good… right?”

Amateurs.

“That depends on how often you can blow your load in one day. They’ll each want you coming for that. Bottoming can be less tiring; you’re not expected to go off every time. You’re more just a useful, hot place to stick it.”

Blake made a slight face. “Delightful.”

“Simply honest,” he returned. “You don’t exactly get into this sort of work for the glamour of it, or at least I hope not.”

Blake snorted. “No, I’m just not cut out for much else.”

His shoulders dropped a little at that, and Barsad could hear the bitterness in his tone. He knew the feeling.  
“Well, that makes two of us. Meet me at my room when you’re done showering.”

____________________

“Why don’t I take you away from all of this?” Kojo teased and dug his fingers into Barsad’s bare thighs. “I could keep you locked up tight in my office, take you out to play when I am bored.”

Kojo was an opportune choice for Blake to see first. He’d winked at him, asked Barsad if he was stuck with training again, and loosened his tie to get down to business. He had told Barsad that he had better pull out all of his tricks if the ‘rookie’ was to learn anything. Kojo was a good client, said exactly what he wanted, expected it, got it, and tipped well. He visited whenever his arms cooperation’s business led him to this part of town, then he took a long lunch hour.

Barsad laughed and licked his lips, raising his leg up, crooking it around Kojo’s waist and tugging up against him. “You would not know what to do with this much man in your life.”

That earned a deep chuckle and a slap over his ass. He smirked and scraped his beard over the smooth, dark skin of Kojo’s chest in retribution, earning a low groan.

“The new boy is cute; how much for a threesome? I’d like to watch you fuck him.”

Barsad winked lightly and flipped himself around. His palms went flat to the wall, and he spread himself how he knew Kojo particularly liked. “I am more than enough for you.”

He got another smack and leaned back into it, grunted and gasped when Kojo thrust his fingers into him, smacked him until he was teased about his rosy cheeks. Kojo was much more… thrilling than most of his regulars, save for one. When he pressed into him, they both stopped their back and forth banter and Kojo wrapped a thick arm around him, held him in place how he wanted as he pounded into him.

Barsad cried out, smacked his hand against the wall, and felt the sting travel down his arm as he tilted his head back when Kojo wrapped a hand around him.

“Going to give it up for me this time?”

He laughed breathlessly. It was a point of pride for Kojo if he came for him. It was not something he demanded outright, but something he was determined to get. He was quite a resolute bastard. More often than not, he won the game, and left with a smug grin as Barsad conceded defeat and licked the wallpaper clean while he tucked his tip into his hand.

Soft moans fell from his lips, and he pressed his cheek into the coolness of the wall. First client of the day meant Kojo was at a distinct advantage, and he figured why even play a rigged game? He bucked into his warm hand until he was pulsing out, painting the wall with thick stripes of come.

“There we go.” It was said with a smug, fond laugh and a squeeze to the thigh before he became all business, fucked Barsad through his own orgasm which left him with a low growl against Barsad’s neck and a moment of crushing him to the wall with heavy, sweat-slick skin and muscle.

There was a final pat on his ass before Kojo let him slump down. “I have another meeting in the area next Thursday.”

“Looking forward to it.” Truth be told, he was.

He left with a wink to Blake who had sat on a chair in the corner, staring. Barsad stood and stretched slowly, rolling his neck.

“Jesus Christ, that was kind of… intense.”

“Kojo is a rougher one. He’s good, though. Looks like you didn’t mind watching much.” He flicked his hand towards John’s pants; it was clear he had a stiff one going on.

“Yeah, yeah.” But he didn’t seem too upset about it. “Mind if I smoke?”

“If you are sharing.”

He cleaned up and they passed a cigarette between them. Technically, the house was no smoking, but it was something that a blind eye was turned towards as long as it was done discreetly.  The day passed, and he had another client or two, and Blake made it through both before excusing himself.

“Go jerk off and have lunch with me.”

Blake had snorted but didn’t argue, and he met him in the kitchen looking like he had had a good pull in the shower. They ate together and he introduced John to a couple of the other workers, though they ate by themselves. Secretly, Barsad watched the clock. His next appointment was Bane, and he was not entirely sure what his reaction to Blake might be, but he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it ended with a cancelled appointment.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Hey, Barsad!” Selina hooked her arm around his doorframe and tilted her head inside. “New guy, wants a guy.”_

_“I am busy; go away.” He knew she wouldn’t be at all bothered by his bluntness, and the book he was reading was at a particularly good spot._

_“Come on, he’s your type.”_

_He glanced up. “And how would you know what my type is, beyond ‘not you’?”_

_She made a low hum of amusement in her throat and smiled. “Oh, Barsad, let’s not play this cat and mouse game. Besides, I do have the room closest to you. I know exactly what your type is.”_

_“And what would that be?”_

_“Oh, well, you’ve interrupted more than one nap of mine, squealing for Kojo, so I’m going to say it’s big, muscled and not afraid to use you like you want it and, well,” she paused and smirked at him, “let’s just say this guy has that in spades.”_

_He shot her a look, then laughed and put his book down. “Perhaps just a peek.”_

_She tossed her hand back in a wave as she walked down the hall. “You owe me.”_

_Well. Selina had not been lying._

_She had also been a little more astute in her observations of him than he would have liked. He did not have just one ‘type,’ but what she’d described… well, it certainly was one of a few that he held onto._

_And the man before him perhaps broke that mold. He stood in the reception area and though most of his large frame was covered by a long lambskin coat, he could tell from the way he stood he was a man of power and muscle, born from hard work, labor, training, not simply lifting weights. His face, though, was obscured, wrapped around and around by a thick brown scarf that covered him past his nose. It was strange, for there was a chill in the air but not something nearly so terrible to call for that, especially since his shaven head was uncovered in comparison. Perhaps he was worried about being seen and recognized in the red-light district._

_He watched him a moment, unseen from his vantage point. Tempting, very tempting._

_The way he stood with an air of authority and then his eyes scanning the room and his hand fidgeting in an almost nervous fashion? That sold him. He had a soft spot in what he considered an otherwise hard heart for shy men._

_He walked up to him, sauntered, really, let his hips sway slightly when the man locked eyes with him._

_“Hello, handsome. I have heard you are looking for someone.” He let his rougher voice slip easily into a honeyed-smooth tone with just the faint curl of rasp around its edges, seductive and dangerous, just like most of his clients liked. “Can I take your coat? We can talk, if you would like, or perhaps we do not need to talk at all.”_

_He waited a moment to give him a chance to appraise him, more than used to it. He suspected the man was new to this, though, since his eyes felt less like the inspection of a cut of meat and held more an air of curiosity. “My name is Bane. Do I get to know your own before you strip me of my possessions?”_

_Barsad chuckled at that. “It is Barsad.” He held out his hands and Bane stripped off his coat slowly. He had judged him correctly. The thin cotton of the t-shirt he wore was stretched tightly over his mass to the point of near translucency._

_“Your scarf?”_

_Bane hesitated. “That… I will keep.”_

_“Surely you do not think I will take your picture and pass it around?”_

_“I would most likely break the camera.” It was said as a joke, but Barsad could hear a bit of bitterness slip from his voice, muffled though it might have been through the scarf. “I am scarred. I do not wish to share them.”_

_“They cannot be so bad—”_

_“I will not be taking it off. If it is a problem…”_

_Barsad shook his head. “It is no trouble. I merely wish you to be comfortable... Come back to my room with me and I’ll show you how comfortable I can make you.”_

_He held back a smile at the sudden way Bane ducked his head, almost burying it more in the scarf he wore. He took a chance and reached for his hand, drew his fingers over the knuckles there. They were thick and built up, a fighter of some sort, perhaps; no wonder he was so built._

_“Come with me,” he invited coaxingly. He was followed back to his bedroom._

_Once there, the shyness he sensed in him seemed to come out even more in the private setting. Barsad slowly peeled off his shirt and winked at him, pausing a moment when he saw how Bane clasped his hands together a bit tightly._

_“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” he guessed. It made sense, if Bane was disfigured. He’d had more than one client with a handicap of some sort, in need of a lay and confidence boost that they were still desirable. He liked to give them that, honestly, and made sure to give them a little more of his attention; they usually were good tippers, anyway._

_  
“It… Yes. I see it is obvious. I have also not experienced,” he paused to consider his wording, “this, you… a male.”_

_“You have not slept with a man, you mean.”_

_“I have not,” Bane agreed, “but I thought it better to avoid subjecting a woman to this.” His hand fidgeted and he fleetingly gestured to his scarf. He was charming in his sweetness. Barsad had the briefest thought that he should send him to another to avoid being smitten, but pushed it away. He was nothing if not a professional._

_“Are you even attracted to me?” he could not help but ask. He could work with it still. Have Bane close his eyes and think of a pretty woman while he sucked him off._

_Bane shrugged. “I have always found gender to have little to do with the desire I hold for the human body.” He ducked his head slightly again. Barsad wondered if this shyness would be his undoing. “You are… an attractive man.”_

_He chuckled. It was a sweet compliment when one was used to hearing much cruder words used to describe their body. “I am certainly not without my charms. If you would like one more like a woman, though, there are others.”_

_Bane contemplated that a moment and shook his head. “It is you that I want.”  
_

_Shy, but firm in his convictions, Barsad decided. It was good to have information on him. He kept such information on his clients in his mind to work them better, make them come back. There was a reason that he did well with repeat business. “Are you really going to keep that on for the duration?”_

_Bane hesitated, and his hand went up to it, touched at the material self-consciously. “It is for the best.”_

_“I could turn the lights out,” he offered, “but then you would not be able to see me, and I am not a sight to be missed,” he boasted playfully and he could see the amusement in Bane’s eyes. “Besides, I find scars to be very handsome.”_

_Bane’s amusement left his face. “Not these.”_

_Barsad could not help but feel of tug of curiosity at that. Still, it was his job to make his clients feel as comfortable as possible, and he couldn’t imagine fucking with a scarf over one’s face would do so. “Perhaps this, then…” He slid his hand into the dresser drawer and pulled out a red scarf. It was an old thing, not really meant for play but to wrap up in when he was cold, still it would work. “Use it over my eyes.”_

_Bane took it and rubbed the material between his fingertips. Barsad could not help but notice he seemed to constantly need something to do with his hands. “You would put yourself into such a vulnerability?”_

_He laughed. “You are not so fearsome, and I am not so weak.”_

_Bane looked at him and chuckled. “Clearly. Yes, we will try this then.”_

_Barsad was not much a big believer in ‘props’. A client could not pay him enough for him to trust him to tie him up. He found toys to be an interesting distraction, but not too much his sort of thing, and he certainly did not wear much for costumery. His tight jeans, bare chest, and slighter form seemed to attract clients well enough. This was a novelty, then, to close his eyes and let Bane wrap the scarf around his head. He was not entirely sure why he allowed it when he felt the slight pinch of anxiousness in his stomach, but there was a loneliness in Bane’s eyes that made him feel that this slight concession would not be so bad._

_Bane did not make a move for several long moments, long enough that were it not for the weight he could feel on the bed beside him, he would wonder if the man had left. Then he heard a soft rustle, the sound of him removing his scarf, the sound of zippers, perhaps the rest of his clothing, as well, setting it aside. When he spoke, it was done clearly, without the previous muffle to his voice._

_“You really are quite handsome.”_

_“You will just have to show me how handsome you think I am.”_

_There was a low laugh close to him now. “I suppose that that is quite fair.”_

_It had been a joke, but Barsad learned quickly that while Bane could be playful, he was also a serious man at heart. He had expected a man without another for many years, a shy man, to be quick to enter, quick to finish, quick to leave. He was very much mistaken._

_“May I finish undressing you?”_

_“Of course; one might as well get what they are paying for.”_

_Strong hands gripped his shoulders and pushed him to lie back onto the bed. “Very well. I will be sure that you earn your wages.” It was a line he had heard as a joke many times before. Never before had it sent a shiver down his spine as it was spoken with a slow murmur of assurance, a promise that he would indeed have to earn his bread._

_Thick fingers worked with a subtle grace, pulled open the button of his jeans, pulled at the small catch of his zipper with such an agonizing slowness that he could hear each tiny click of metal teeth unlocking. He was always divested of his clothes quickly, and right now he felt like a present being unwrapped, something to be savored. He squirmed slightly and got a scrape of nails down his belly. He moaned softly, the suddenness and inability to prepare for it sending sparks of sensation over his skin. Perhaps he should indulge in a blindfold more often._

_“I would ask that you keep still, at least for moment.”_

_He made an agreeable noise and felt his jeans peeled off so slowly, the cloth brushing down against his skin, exposing him to the cool air. He heard them tossed into the corner of the room once they left his ankles, and he was bare. Bane’s hands ghosted up his calves, and though he had seen the thick calluses that hardened them, it was a gentle touch, exploratory, curious. He sighed as he dug his fingers into the muscle there before stroking up his thighs. He started to spread them, but his hands stilled him._

_“Not yet.”_

_Bane liked his legs, Barsad decided, for he could not seem to stop touching them, his fingers swirling against the skin, pulling slightly at the hair there and chuckling at the hiss he got._

_No one touched a whore like this. A mistress? A kept boy? Certainly, but not a whore. He realized, though, a man who was starved for touch does. A man who was scarred and shy and longed for contact? He hungered for the connection of touch and skin and mouth._

_Perhaps he liked his chest even more than his legs. His sides were stroked over, his hips touched and rubbed, his belly patted and scratched. He could prepare for none of it, and felt himself squirming, harder than he thought he would be in the situation._

_“I do hope that I meet your scrupulous attentions.” His mouth had gotten him into a little trouble with more than one client, though not his regulars, and from Bane’s pause then playful scrape of his nail just around the outer edge of his nipple, he guessed he did not mind, either._

_His head swam slightly, and so he missed the response beyond a low chuckle and made a questioning noise._

_“I said, Barsad, that I enjoy your body very much.”_

_“Oh, wonderful. Though I feel rather—” He paused a moment, taking a shuddery breath when Bane rolled his peaked nipple between his fingers, tugged it enough to make his back arch. “—useless, just lying here.”_

_“You are not simply lying here; you are being explored. If I am to be with a man, I would like to catalogue the differences, detail them.”_

_“Ah. Then I might point out you are completely ignoring a very key difference between a man and a woman,” he hinted then grunted and bit his lip at the way Bane sharply flicked his nail over his nipple._

_“I will attend to your cock soon enough, though you are a bit pushier than I thought was normal for such a business.”_

_He could not help but grin. “Not many complain.”_

_“And you will find that I will not, either. You possess an admirable wit, though I would enjoy it very much if I were able to render you speechless.”_

_Hot wet suddenly replaced the warm, dry brush of fingers over his chest. Barsad jolted at the sudden change, moaned when Bane mouthed over him in slow, unhurried licks, delicate flicks, hot puffs of air. There was something about his lips. They felt different, lines of harder skin, scar tissue, he guessed, ran along him as well as the soft plushness of them. It felt good, though, and the sudden back and forth of the texture possibly felt even better._

_He reached his hands up and felt Bane pause; hands took hold of his wrists tightly._

_“Not my face.”_

_He nodded, promised, and Bane relented. He ran his fingers over the thick muscles of his shoulders, his back. It was nearly intoxicating to feel how they flexed and rippled as Bane crouched over him. He seemed to like that, his back pressed against his fingertips and he scratched down his spine, feeling scars there, but he was careful and the noises Bane made were clearly not in pain, they were a low rumble of pleasure and were quite pleasant, indeed._

_He choked back a needful sound when Bane finally licked up his cock, made a noise of curiosity and sucked at him._

_“T-t—”_

_Cool air hit his skin and made his stomach clench when Bane pulled back from him. “Surely I have not robbed you of your words already, Barsad. You seem sharper than that.”_

_He laughed and dug his nails into his back in retribution. “You are a cruel man, and rather good at that for having not done so before. Do you wish me to finish without you? If so, please continue. You are welcome to find out if you enjoy swallowing down the taste of come.”_

_He jerked and twisted at the sharp squeeze to the tip of him, resisted whining and bucking into that hot grip. He was dripping and feeling quite wanton at the moment, definitely wishing to either come or get filled._

_“I believe I would have to charge you for that.”_

_He laughed. “Then fuck me?”_

_“I…” Bane hesitated, his shyness suddenly seeming to come back. “You will show me how?”_

_“Mhm, oh, I will show you how to do it just how I like,” he promised. “Get the stuff out of the drawer.” He flicked his hand towards the bedside table, or what he assumed was the bedside table. His brain was honestly feeling rather clouded, and his sense of direction was quite lost._

_He scooted up to his knees and felt the foil of a condom packet pressed into his hands, as well as his lubricant. “Want me to do it, or want me to teach you how?”_

_“Do it. I wish to watch.” Bane’s voice was lower then, thick with arousal, and Barsad was rather proud of himself for being able to reduce such a powerful man down to such a level._

_He ripped the foil open with his teeth. “Where are you hiding?” That got a laugh and his hands were guided to Bane’s cock._

_“…Perhaps I should be paying you,” he muttered and rubbed his hands up the firm length of him. He felt hot in his hands, thick. He trailed his fingers up him and listened to the low groan, felt the tug at his hair and didn’t mind the hint, sucked him into his mouth._

_“Ah—” Bane’s hips tried to move, but Barsad grabbed him to keep him still. Clearly, he was not the only one who could be rendered speechless. He relaxed his throat, took him down deeper until his eyes watered, until he was dripping into his mouth and he had to swallow, pull back and pant. Bane’s fingers against his scalp were shaking slightly._

_“We will save you for later,” Barsad cheekily promised, kissing the tip of him before rolling the condom deftly over his length, not needing to be able to see for so practiced a move. That earned a chuckle and he re-found the lube and shifted onto his hands and knees._

_Bane was silent while he worked himself open, save for heavy breathing. He worried slightly that the man wasn’t appreciating the show that he was trying to give him, rolling his hips back onto his fingers, spreading them and groaning with his face pressed to the pillow, but suddenly there were hands gripping his ass._

_“I changed my mind.”_

_He nodded eagerly then cried out when thicker fingers replaced his own. They were rough, and the shape of them inside of him felt perfect as he stretched him insistently until he was loose with slick. “Come on, take me. I am ready,” he bade him, feeling his cock hanging heavy between his legs._

_He got another finger, instead, and cursed slightly. “Have you lost your hearing? I am MORE than ready.”_

_The fingers in him curled sharply and he jolted, feeling the pleasure pulse hotly through his body and straight through to his cock._

_“I merely wanted to be sure I knew where everything was. I believe I have found your prostate, have I not?”_

_“Quite-Ah! A-accurately,” he grunted out when Bane’s fingers pressed roughly against the spot, and his vision felt as though it swam despite the fact he could see nothing._

_Bane pulled his fingers from him, and he groaned at the loss, spread himself further, tilting his hips up. He bit into the pillow when he was breached by his thick cockhead, feeling the low groan pouring out muffled from him, anyway. Bane pressed his chest to his back, and he could feel his heavy breathing brushing over the sweat on his neck. It grew faster with each inch that stretched him open until they both sighed when they were pressed together, tightly connected._

_“Nn… See? It is not so different than a woman.” He panted, not truly needing a moment to adjust, but taking it anyway as Bane was still inside of him, filling him so fully._

_“You are nothing like a woman,” was murmured against his neck, and then he was being thrust into, the earlier playfulness gone as both of their needs grew. He rocked back for a moment before his thighs were grabbed tightly, and he was shoved down into the cushions below, trapped under hot muscle and forced to merely be still and take._

_He clenched around him tightly instead, rocked back with minute shoves of his hips, reveling in the sensation of Bane pumping into him and struggling with no intention or desire to escape as Bane’s thrusts quickened, as he rediscovered where his fingers had teased, and the head of him rubbed roughly against it when he managed to twist properly._

_“Stop,” Bane ordered when he bit into the sheets again. “Let me hear you.”_

_He yelled, tried to snap his hips back greedily._

_“You sound wonderful,” Bane complimented, and he felt the nip of teeth against his ear, scarred lips pressing to the corner of his jaw and sucking lightly. His little chanted out ‘yes’s were something he rarely did, but Bane seemed to delight in them and a sudden snap of his hips made him hammer into him at just the right angle, made him swear and grind against the sheets, come all over the blankets with a blissful groan. Bane growled, fucked into him harder, clearly tilted into his own orgasm by the display._

_He felt rather like a puddle after, not caring even that he was now lying in the wet spot, so to speak. Bane was still on top of him, his fingers drumming a slow beat against his arm as his breathing began to steady._

_“Not bad, handsome; going to let me up anytime soon so I can smoke?”_

_“Perhaps I should lie here for a moment, to prevent such a filthy habit.”_

_“Mhm, I can wait ’til you go, if you want.” He didn’t complain when Bane stayed on top of him a while. It was like a really hot, quite heavy blanket and he was more spent then usual. He stroked his hands down his arms slowly, and Barsad understood. The man needed to touch, and you gave clients what they needed, even after the main event. So he didn’t say anything when Bane finally pulled away and rubbed down his shoulders, his back, pulled his clothing back on and his scarf, then sat back down with a sigh._

_Barsad unwrapped his own scarf, light sending spots into his eyes for a few moments, then realized Bane was holding his cigarettes and lighter for him. It was a surprisingly sweet gesture, enough that he didn’t feel the need to kick the man out just because he was dressed. He lit up and leaned back against the headboard._

_“Thanks, handsome.”_

_“Must you keep calling me that?” Bane complained mildly._

_He shrugged, and in a rare moment of honesty with a client admitted, “It is easier to remember than names.”_

_He flicked his eyes over him thoughtfully. “Perhaps, though Bane is not such a hard name to remember.”_


	3. Chapter 3

Bane visited often, sometimes more than once a week. He was a good client, Barsad could even admit to himself he was his favorite client, and perhaps that was why he gave him a bit more of a discount. It meant repeat business, though, and Bane tipped well, so it made sense to give him one. It was practical, not favoritism.

It had taken several months of visits, several months of rough fucking and gentle touches to convince Bane to let him see beneath his scarf.

_“I promise. It cannot be so bad, Bane.”_

_“It is bad enough.”_

_“If I turn to stone at the sight, you won’t have to pay today.”_

_Bane’s more apprehensive look became amused. “I would most likely still come on you, out of malice.”_

_“I would expect no less.” He touched gently onto the scarf hiding Bane’s face, but did not pull. It had taken time to even be trusted to do that. “May I?”_

_“If you must.”_

_“Surely, I must,” he teased. Curiosity had honestly been getting the better of him, and being blindfolded each time had only ramped up that curiosity until it thrummed beneath his skin. He found the small knot Bane used to keep it secure and plucked it loose, gently unwinding the layers of cloth until Bane was exposed to him._

_It was not as bad as what his imagination had played at, but then he had an active imagination. The face before him was badly marred. Gnarls of scars twisted lips that had clearly once been plush and perfect; they extended to his cheeks, as though someone had put a knife into the man’s mouth and cut him from cheek to cheek. His nose also was flatter, crooked, as though it had been broken and never healed quite right. Barsad felt a sudden sense of loss. Beyond these things, it was plain to see that Bane had been beautiful at one time._

_Bane did not look at him, his fingers twitched and held onto the scarf that had been dropped into his lap, pulling at a loose string._

_“It is jarring, yes, but it is plain to see that you are still handsome beneath it. You should not bother to hide it.”  Bane still did not look up. It did not sit well with him. “Do they hurt?”_

_“Not much; they are old wounds, now.”_

_Barsad nodded and leaned in close to him, cradled his jaw and listened to the soft intake of nervous breath as he broke one of the only four rules he kept for himself about the job._

_First and foremost was never fuck anyone bare. The second was to never allow one to spend the night. The third, to never make a house call, then finally the fourth…_

_Never kiss a client._

_He pressed his own smooth lips to the rough, silvered ridge of Bane’s, feeling the plush hidden beneath them, the nervous grip of Bane’s hand on his wrist. He could snap it in two if he wished. Barsad had no doubts of the man’s strength after he’d had him pinned to the wall on more than one occasion._

_“Shh, let me.”_

_The fingers on his wrist were shaking before they released one by one. Barsad smiled against his lips and pressed gentle kisses to them, traced over those silvery scars with his tongue, followed each up his cheek and kissed back down them, bathed them with little flicks of his tongue and warm kisses. He licked at the seam of his mouth and laughed huskily when it pressed more tightly closed._

_“Bane, come now, open for me,” he coaxed softly until his lips parted and he licked into his mouth, found his tongue and played. Bane’s arms suddenly wrapped around him and he was falling back onto the bed with such a crash that the air rushed from his lungs as Bane kissed him back, desperate and wanting from such an action so long denied. He stole the air from his lungs again and he could barely get it back as they panted and kissed, as Bane attacked his lips with licks and bites until they were swollen and stinging._

_“Barsad.” It was a low growl against him, the vibration of it tingling against his mouth and tongue._

_“Do not stop or I shall kill you,” he promised with a hiss and smirked at the laugh it received. Bane fumbled, but reached for the condoms. They had initially started this so that Barsad could contribute more to the actions, as it was harder to do so blindfolded, but that idea seemed to have been dashed from both of their minds._

_There was slick and the rip of foil. He nearly snarled when Bane tried to put a finger inside of him._

_“Do not bother. I will have you now.”_

_It was a sharp burn when Bane pushed against his hole, dripping with lubrication, slowly forcing into him un-stretched. He welcomed it with a shudder, felt his body being forced to open and stretch to accommodate. Each thrust inside of his now shaking body made him a little more pliant and wet for Bane’s cock. He cried out between desperate kisses as Bane fucked him open, curled up under him tightly with his legs locked around his waist, his fingers digging into his shoulders as Bane growled against his lips, wrapped a slick hand around his cock, drove into him until he saw spots, until he arched and begged for his orgasm shamelessly even as he felt it gushing from him, pulsing out hot and slicking up Bane’s knuckles as it dripped from them._

_Kisses rained down on him still, against the corner of his jaw, down his chin, his cheeks, his nose, always ending up back at his lips, always with a soft murmur of his name. He opened his mouth and panted, arched again when Bane lost himself with a snarl and drove into him._

_He was sleepy, quite sleepy, after that, and he closed his eyes, feeling the gentle ghost of a kiss over each of his eyelids._

_“You should keep it off when we fuck. You are still very handsome,” he breathed out contently._

_“Do not call me that. I just assume you have forgotten my name.”_

_“Bane.” He murmured it throatily and pulled him close for another kiss. “I doubt I could forget it.”_

He had not even realized he had broken rule number two until he’d awoken the next morning with Bane’s heavy weight still pressed down on top of him. He had been sleeping, and it had seemed rude to interrupt his dreams. He’d traced a finger over Bane’s lips slowly and watched as they steadily went from their downward tilt into a small smile.

Certainly not favoritism; he merely understood what Bane needed as a client.

He ended up back in his room with Blake.

“I am going to clean up.”

“You clean up a lot,” Blake pointed out, and Barsad smacked his fingers sharply when he tried to nose around in his dresser drawer.

“No one wants a whore who smells like a whore… well… unless they are the one creating the scent, anyway. Do yourself a favor and clean up a bit at least each time. Shower well for the regulars.”

Blake shook his fingers and snagged up the book he was trying to keep at and looked smug as he flopped onto Barsad’s bed to read it. “Seems reasonable. Got a regular, then?”

“Yes. I should be done before he gets here, but if I am not,” Barsad paused. “Then I will consider it a favor if you are polite to him. He is my best client.”

“He probably would just like it if I was a smart-ass to him then, I saw you with that other regular you have, Kojo.”

Barsad chuckled. “True, but he is a bit more introverted than Kojo.”

Blake gave him a blank look.

“He is shy.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “I’ll be nice.”

“Do not dog-ear my book.”

“Now that I’m totally going to do.”

____________________

Blake smirked slightly when Barsad shut the door to the bathroom with an annoyed sound. He wouldn’t really dog-ear it; he was pretty good at remembering his place, anyway. It was an interesting book, and he didn’t exactly have as much time to read as he liked, so if he was just going to be lying around he’d get some in. Maybe he could just read while Barsad fucked his next client.

He sort of got it, the whole following around thing, in theory, anyway. It gave him something to do while his test results came in, either way. He didn’t like to just sit around and do nothing, though, and it was more than a little awkward to sit around and do nothing while people _fucked_ in front of him. He wasn’t gay, but he had a dick and he was human, so his body was more than happy to cheerfully remind him that he wasn’t having any of that sex it was seeing.

He was more than unhappy to point out it’d be getting plenty soon enough.

It’s not that he had anything against the business per se…  It just sure as hell wasn’t something he’d ever seen himself getting involved in. Fuck, he needed money, though, needed it bad, and not just for him. If it was just for him, he’d make do with some shitty minimum wage job and bust his ass over it.

That was only enough money to barely live on, though, and he needed more than that. He’d grown up in a home, watched as all of the kids aged out and fucked up their lives because they didn’t stand a fucking chance. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that when he aged out; more than that, he’d promised he wouldn’t let it happen for anyone else aging out of the program, either.

He’d started doing videos because it was good pay.  Really good pay for a while, while he was just barely legal and everyone wanted a piece of him. He hadn’t exactly meant to, it was just something he’d stumbled into, but it left him with enough cash to give back to St. Swithin’s, enough to help out the kids that were just aging out get into programs; it wouldn’t cover tuition, but gave them the boost they needed.

The money stopped coming when he got just a little older, though, put on a little lean muscle. He still had a baby face, still got carded everywhere he went, but video shoots lost interest unless he was willing to do things that he just wasn’t comfortable doing, like going bare with strangers, being tied up or gangbanged. He had limits.

Strangely, whoring himself out wasn’t one of them. He figured it wasn’t much different than the videos if you got down to it, and if you found the right place the money could be good. So he had investigated it, found the right place, this place, and had casually inquired about work, tried not to make himself sound too desperate, like the duffel bag over his shoulder hadn’t contained the few belongings he had in the world because he’d sold the rest already and given it to the kids.

So that’s where he was now. It was a good contract, a good deal. He’d get used to fucking strangers _without_ a video camera this time. Hell, maybe he’d even get a woman or two, something that had never actually ended up happening while he was doing shoots. Apparently, he just didn’t have a body that screamed ‘virile male’ to the film crews; whatever. This was just a lot more personal interaction than he was used to. With shooting, he was given orders, he got hard, he got fucked at ridiculous angles that made his legs feel like they were cramping, and he tried to come on cue.

Here, though, it was different. There was no breaking to set up different angles and shots. Watching Barsad take on a couple of clients almost made him more nervous, not less. Barsad knew how to handle those men perfectly, how to make them comfortable and give them what they wanted, not what some camera crew wanted. He’d never claimed to be good with people. He was good with the kids, trying to help them out, trying to make sure they didn’t end up in the tight ball of anger that he’d lived in for years, but he wasn’t a people person at all. He was really going to have to watch and try to learn from what Barsad did with his clients. From what he’d seen, the man had raked in more in just tips that morning than what he himself had made in a full day of shooting when this was a light day for him.

And he’d done it while having a fucking beard. John had been forced to shave baby smooth from cheeks to ankles while doing cam work. That didn’t really seem fair at all. Maybe he’d grow a fucking beard. Yeah. He’d get scruffy, too. He’d learn how to work the guys from Barsad and he’d let his hair grow in. Maybe he’d get a tattoo like he’d been thinking about. Barsad had a couple, and they looked good on him. Objectively speaking, anyway; he wasn’t into guys, but he could recognize when one looked good. He did have to get hard from getting fucked by them, after all; no cameraman wanted a soft bottomer. He just had to focus on that, that if he didn’t overthink it, it could feel pretty damn good getting pounded into.

He wasn’t gay, he was just a realist. Bodies had reactions, you accepted those reactions, you made money off of those reactions, you moved on. Gay wasn’t having sex with guys, gay was wanting a _relationship_ with another guy, gay was banging another guy without getting paid. Gay was not what he was.

He paged through the novel a bit more, rolling onto his stomach and raising his feet up into the air, kicking them lazily. Reading tended to build up a restlessness in his head that extended out to his limbs so that while he did it he could rarely keep still. Still, it was a good book, he didn’t take Barsad for a zombie kind of guy, but who knew?

He heard the door click open and turned the page. “He’s in the shower. He should be out soon.”

There was a moment of pause, and then he heard a slightly muffled voice. “And what are you doing in his bed, in the meantime?”

“Just warming it up for you guys.” He rolled his eyes then realized it was kind of wasted when he wasn’t even looking at the guy.

“I see, I am sure we have never had such an issue before. I find it interesting that Barsad would purchase a talking bed warmer.”

“Yeah, well, he says that you’re his best client, so you must get the royal treatment.”

“…He said that?”

Oh, was that bad? He had no idea if you were supposed to go mentioning things like that; maybe it was bad etiquette to have favorites. He rolled over finally. “Yeah, uh, don’t tell him I told yo—fuck me, you’re huge.”


	4. Chapter 4

In his defense, the man was huge. He’d thought Kojo was mammoth earlier, and hadn’t exactly been sure how Barsad took him and didn’t snap in two; this guy, though… maybe that was just Barsad’s thing, huge guys that could snap him in two. It definitely wasn’t John’s thing. He scooted up to sit and closed his book, watching the guy as he blinked at him then laughed. He assumed it was a laugh, anyway; it was muffled from the scarf he had wrapped up around his face, which was weird because he’d taken his coat off and set it down on the dresser already.

“I am well aware of my stature, and I am here to fuck Barsad, not you.”

“Wh—Oh, very funny. Good thing. Fuck, how do you not break him?”

“Perhaps I do, but he does not seem to mind.”

John snorted. “Christ, good, don’t visit me when I’m in the clear.” He knew he was supposed to be nice, but this guy was more than a little intimidating and frankly it was putting him on edge.

“You are a new acquisition, then? I will try to refrain from the clear temptation of a night in your bed.” It was said so dryly that John felt like he should be offended.

“Now listen here, motherf—”

The door to the bathroom opened and Barsad walked out wrapped in a towel. “Really? This is your idea of politeness?”

“He started it.”

Barsad glanced at him, clearly not amused and turned to the other man.

“Bane, I am sorry. You are a bit earlier than I thought; I would have at least put clothes on.”

Bane’s hand reached out and John blinked when it brushed against Barsad’s cheek, rubbed into his beard a little with a familiar sort of affection. “You know I do not mind. You rarely wear them for long. Why is he here, though?”

Barsad flashed a brief grin then he looked more serious. “Ra’s has him shadowing me for the week. I am sorry, I didn’t really have a choice and I didn’t get a warning.”

Disappointment flashed in Bane’s eyes and his hand dropped. “I see.”

“Bane…”

“I will have to reschedule.”

“Bane, you should stay.” Barsad took up Bane’s hand. “It could be good for you.”

“I fail to see how.”

John watched in confusion. What was up with these two, anyway? They were making him feel pretty damn uncomfortable about being there.

“Look, uh, it’s not even a kinky thing or anything, ok? I’m just here to learn to work.”

He was, for the most part, ignored.

“It is your week off, is it not? Do not waste it, hm? He will just be in the corner.”

“Watching,” Bane pointed out bluntly.

“Remember how we have talked about you not wearing it in front of others? Consider it a push in that direction… Otherwise it will be a very boring vacation for you, now won’t it? You would miss my ass terribly.”

Bane watched Barsad a moment then chuckled. “I did have other plans beyond seeing to your ass’s needs.”

“They could hardly be any more important, though.”

Bane’s eyes flicked over him, and John could hear the slow exhalation of breath. “Very well. Since you are clearly so in need of me.”

“Of course. I will simply waste away and die without your cock,” Barsad returned glibly, then his hands went to Bane’s shoulders and he spoke softly. “It will be alright.”

Barsad looked over at him briefly and John was surprised to see the fierce look in his eyes, as though he _dared_ John to even try to say something as he reached up and slowly unwrapped the scarf from around Bane’s face.

Oh, wow.

He understood, then, what a lot of what just happened was about. Bane’s face was a mess. John wasn’t a jackass, though, he wasn’t going to say anything about it. There was more than one kid at St. Swithin’s with a facial deformity, abandoned at birth from it or shortly thereafter. There was no helping it, and fuck the world; John thought that when they were happy they had some of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen.

Barsad tossed the scarf onto the dresser and Bane’s eyes flicked over toward John once, then once more. He seemed to relax when John didn’t say a word and instead just moved over to the chair to be less in the way, grabbed his book. He was just going to read and let them do their thing, gleaning some information while he did it. He already had learned a good bit just now.

“There we are. Now, when are you going to kiss me? I am growing terribly bored.”

His eyes snapped up from the page at that. Barsad had just gotten done telling him at lunch not to go kissing his clients.

_“There are some unwritten rules, Blake. Everyone has their own, and you’ll build your own in time.”_

_“Oh yeah, what kind? I’m not much for making rules. Maybe I’ll just use yours.”_

_Barsad snorted and told him; they seemed easy enough._

_“I’m surprised you didn’t make rule number 5 ‘don’t fall in love’.” Not that he had to worry much, not unless some smoking hot brunette came into his room and started swaying her hips for him._

_Barsad shook his head. “I don’t have to. The other rules are there to ensure it never happens.”_

What a fucking hypocrite. He watched as Bane’s hand hooked around Barsad’s waist and tugged him flush to his body, how his fingers roamed restlessly over the still-damp skin of his back, and they kissed, they kissed like they were fucking each other’s mouths, like they wanted to crawl inside of each other. So yeah, Barsad was obviously a huge hypocrite, the way he initiated, the way he melted against Bane’s frame, how his licked wetly over Bane’s lips and scars and moaned, nuzzled against his cheek.

“There, see? Now I am not bored at all.”

He got a throaty rumble of amusement for that, and John watched as Barsad stripped off Bane’s shirt and practically yanked open his pants, fumbling on the buttons when, from what John had seen earlier, Barsad had no problems with buttons, had even opened up a pair of jeans with his teeth. Bane’s fingers went to Barsad’s towel and they were taken hold of, pushed back so that they gripped the ledge of the dresser instead.

“You will just have to wait.”

“For something I have seen so often before? Surely that does not seem like something I should wait for.”

“And yet you keep coming back for it, so clearly the desire is there,” Barsad returned and slid down onto his knees with a move that John was going to have to ask him to teach him. His hands traced slowly down Bane’s stomach, his hips, and he smacked his thighs when Bane’s fingers moved, making Bane jump slightly and getting a laugh before he gripped the dresser more tightly.

“I paid for you, I should be able to touch you,” He argued, but there was laughter in his tone, like this was an old joke.

“You paid for me to pleasure you. I can, and have, done it with one finger and your hands behind your back, so hold still and let me work. You shall receive your turn to work me soon enough.”

Maybe he would have to have Barsad give him pointers on how to suck cock, too. He thought he did it pretty good but, well, the man was evidently a natural. Bane groaned out his clear enjoyment, his head tilted back and his mouth dropped open as Barsad sucked at him wetly, swirled his tongue over the tip of him and tucking it under his foreskin. One hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently in his hand as he braced the other against Bane’s hip.

Blake felt a twitch in his own pants while he watched Barsad’s clearly wicked tongue trail slowly down the length of Bane’s shaft, mouthing over it and placing a messy kiss there with damp lips. Those lips curled into a smirk when Bane groaned out his name lowly.

“Go ahead, if you are so impatient.”

“I am no such thing, but you always seem to accuse me of such,” Bane argued, but his hands were in Barsad’s hair then. Blake assumed he would yank, tug Barsad onto his cock and fuck his face, but instead he cradled the back of his head lightly and pushed his hips forward, slowly feeding his cock past Barsad’s parted lips, sighing softly. Barsad took him deeply, swallowed around him, and he had to be in his throat from the way Barsad’s eyes closed and the wet sounding groan that came from him.

“Perfect, as always.” Bane ran a light stroke of his fingertip over Barsad’s cheek before he slid back a few inches to let him breathe.

It was almost hypnotic to watch, the unhurried play between them, how Bane was slow, careful, how Barsad’s fingers dug so deeply into Bane’s thighs that he could see the scratches left, but the rest of his body was relaxed, open, receptive. It was more of a turn on than Blake cared to admit. It was also more of a shock, too, because the Barsad that Blake had met earlier had never looked like he would trust someone enough to do this. The Barsad from earlier was snarky and guarded, but this one was open, trusting enough to let Bane’s finger’s curl tightly into his hair, to let himself be moved, to let Bane decide when he breathed.

Bane murmured soft encouragements, his breathing heavy, and he watched Barsad closely, intently, clearly admiring how his lips looked stretched around his cock.

“Do you like how I feed it to you, Barsad? Are you hungry for it, as always?” he teased slightly and it got a soft moan in response. He shuddered and his hips moved slightly faster, not jolting, still smooth plunges, until his head tilted down and he looked close.

With a reluctant moan, he slipped from Barsad’s mouth. Barsad laid his head against his hip. Ragged, wet pants shuddered out of his body and his voice sounded raw. “Why did you not?”

“It is my vacation, remember? I plan to take my time.”

John wondered if it would be inappropriate or noticeable if he jerked off.

Bane did take his time. He pulled out whenever he got too close, his cock slipping from Barsad’s swollen lips, dripping with Barsad’s spit and his own precome, looking redder each time as Bane took a few breaths to calm himself before sliding back deep into his throat. The towel was abandoned somewhere during the session, and while Barsad’s one hand stayed on Bane’s thigh, the other had long since reached down to take hold of himself, stoking in time to Bane’s slow rocks of his hips.

“Do you think you think you will spill yourself before me? I do not pay you to masturbate.”

Barsad panted, licked a stripe up Bane’s cock. “I dare you to try and stop me.”

Bane merely laughed and slid back into his mouth. Their steady back and forth ended when Barsad whimpered suddenly and looked like he was at the end of his abilities for that kind of intense game. Blake had done a video or two like that, but it had been pieced together clips with breaks in between. He couldn’t imagine giving someone control of his oxygen supply for that long.

Bane’s thumb stroked tenderly over the corner of Barsad’s jaw. “You have done very well.” He pulled out of his mouth and hooked his hands under Barsad’s arms, pulling him up so their bodies were pressed together. He couldn’t see, but it wasn’t hard to guess by the pleasured cry that came from Barsad and the way Bane’s head dipped forward to rest against his that the hand that Bane had reached between their bodies was stroking both of their cocks.

Bane’s words were too soft to hear now, breathy things that had Barsad wrapping his arms around him, rocking into his hand, his toes curling into the rug under him. He did hear the soft order to come, though, and the way Barsad jerked and cried out hoarsly told him it was followed to the T. Bane growled lightly, his own movements more obvious as he rubbed against Barsad’s body, stroked himself faster until he finished with a shudder, pulling Barsad against him tightly after. John could see the wetness on his hand from both of them.

“Very good, Barsad.”

“Better than you could ever hope to find elsewhere,” Barsad returned, his words slightly slurred.

John excused himself silently to the bathroom and scrambled to unzip his pants, wrapping his hand around his cock. It took only a few quick jerks until he bit down roughly into his lip to stifle his grunt as he came into his hand. He wasn’t gay, but Jesus Christ, anyone would have gotten off to what he just saw.


	5. Chapter 5

He washed his hands, not bothering trying to hide around in the bathroom; it was what it was. He slipped back out. Barsad was on the bed now, no, Barsad was on top of Bane who was on the bed, stretched out on top of him while Bane was stroking his fingers through his beard and down across his throat, his other hand resting on the small of his back.

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to get you some tea?”

“I am quite fine.” The words were rough-sounding still. “It will take more than that for you to render me speechless.”

“I have come to wonder if anything truly can.” Bane leaned to place a kiss on his forehead. “But you should have something warm to drink after that.”

“Then next time I will swallow.”

Bane made an amused sound. “Let me make you tea. It will ease my burdened mind, for I fear I have broken you.”

Barsad smiled slightly. “As if you could. Your mind is cloudy enough, though, so I suppose I must let you.”

Blake wondered how exactly Bane knew where the kitchen was when he shifted Barsad off of him and dressed, wrapped his scarf back around his face and left the room. He sat down onto the chair again and tried not to stare.

“Did you enjoy my bathroom?”

“Did you enjoy getting throat-fucked by a tree branch?”

Barsad laughed and it broke off into a slight cough. “Do not let him hear you flatter him. It will go right to his bald head.”

“Right. Seriously though, that was… Are you alright?” He didn’t exactly mean the play. It was, well it was pretty obvious there was something going on between these two.

Barsad glanced at him. The light smile on his lips faded and he rolled onto his back to look at the ceiling. “Of course. Bane is a very good customer.”

“You kissed him.”

Barsad rolled his shoulders slightly. “There are exceptions to each rule in life. He has needs that are not as easily met. Do not mistake it for something else. It is merely business, as always. Bane is a mountain… and I find that I enjoy the climb.”

That was the biggest load of shit Blake had ever heard. Fuck if that wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d seen in his life. It wasn’t his business, though. It’s not like he couldn’t get why neither of them owned up to it. It was stupid business, falling in love with a sex worker, or a client. Though it was painfully obvious that these two had managed to go and do just that.

He watched when Bane came back in with a mug of tea, how he glanced over at him once before he slowly unwound his scarf again and laid it aside. “You should lie down, still,” he commented to Barsad who was sitting against the headboard and relaxing.

He cracked an eye open and seemed amused. “Your cock is not quite so tiring as you make it out to be.” He took the tea, though, and sipped it slowly with a quiet thank you.

Bane sat again and Blake felt uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than he had just sitting and watching them fuck. This was personal shit. He sadly couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen people being this friendly and personable with one another. Girls weren’t exactly lining up to date him when they found out he fucked guys on camera for a living. He stamped down a ridiculous pang of jealousy, really fucking ridiculous.

“Do you have another client?”

“No. It is a light day, today.”

There was a ghost of a smile on the edges of Bane’s scarred lips. “You cleared your schedule, knowing I would work you hard this week.” It was said teasingly, and Barsad flicked his hand at him dismissively.

“You overestimate your stamina. It is merely a light week.”

Bane made a slight disbelieving noise and Barsad’s cool eyes lowered slightly in annoyance. “You may leave at any time; surely you plan to spend time with Talia this week, as well.”

His fingers went to Barsad’s wrist, his thumb rubbing lightly against the bone. “I wish to see you drink your tea, first.”

“You are the worst of mother hens.”

“Someone must make sure you do not keel over.”

“You will leave after,” Barsad warned, “or I will charge you for falling asleep on top of me again.”

Bane laughed lowly and leaned in to kiss Barsad. “You are a pricey mattress, but worth the cost.”

Blake couldn’t help but laugh when Bane got a face full of Barsad’s bare foot, instead. Both pairs of eyes looked over in surprise; it was nice to know he was so easy to forget. Bane took Barsad’s foot in his hands and kissed the heel of it before setting it down.

“Forgive my rudeness, I should have brought you tea, as well.”

He blinked. “I’m good. I’m more of a coffee person, anyway.”

“I will remember,” Bane promised seriously. It took a moment to realize he was teasing, and he narrowed his eyes.

“You better. Two creams, six sugars.”

Bane looked honestly disturbed. “That is far too much sugar to be healthy.”

Barsad laughed softly. “Do not start him.”

“My coffee, I drink it how I want it.” He tossed Barsad his pants. “I don’t chit-chat with naked people unless I’m naked, too, and he’s not paying me, so put some clothes on.”

That earned some laughter, but Barsad set down his cup and shimmied back into his jeans. Bane grabbed his fingers, ignoring the indignant noises and doing up Barsad’s zipper and buttons himself.

“You take far too many liberties. When will Talia be done her work?”

“Not for another hour or so.”

“Then I suppose I must keep you with me or you will cause mayhem without one of us to look after you. Lie down with me.”

“I am hardly the wild beast you both make me out to be.” But he turned anyway, lay down on his back. Barsad hooked his legs over his shoulders casually, rubbed a foot playfully against his belly.

“You are a tamed enough monster between us, I suppose.” He ran his fingers down Bane’s scalp thoughtfully. “How is she?”

“Far too rebellious, far too smart, far too attractive.”

“You deserve it. She will run wild the moment she turns eighteen.”

Bane made a disgruntled noise. “It is only a few months away. Please do not remind me.”

“You’ve got a kid?” Bane looked way too young to have an seventeen year old, but maybe not, he could have had one really young.

“I have…” He seemed to consider his words carefully. “A friend... who has entrusted me to take care of her, though she often seems to forget this and attempts to instead take care of me.”

John laughed lightly at that. “Yeah, well that’s seventeen.”

Bane glanced over at him and gave him a small, warm smile. “It is, indeed. She earned her GED early and we run our gym together.”

John was surprised when they included him in the conversation, after. He smoked with Barsad, even though Bane complained, nearly groaned when he saw John pull out his own cigarettes.

“Not another one.”

Barsad merely gave a wicked grin and offered John his lighter.

“I’ve got a name, you know,” he remarked offhandedly, tossing back the lighter.

“I assumed; most do. What is it?”

“Jo—…Blake.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Blake.”

The next few days were… strange. He tailed Barsad, learned from him, hell, he really liked him only a couple of days in. He was the most unruffled person he’d ever met, and those sleepy, casual eyes only changed around Bane. Otherwise, he was wickedly sarcastic, biting, sensual; his customers ate it up, most of them never even making it to the bed. Barsad would curl up around them, whisper something filthy into their ear, and they’d have him on the dresser, against the wall, while he panted, rolled his hips and urged them on with his wicked tongue.

John was having a little bit of a harder time than usual convincing his dick he was in fact, not gay.

The two of them, though… well, he was more than a little ashamed to admit that he no longer missed the porn he had stored on his pawned-off laptop. He had more than enough material. More embarrassingly, though, he kind of enjoyed after, sitting around and smoking with Barsad, watching as he ran his finger’s across Bane’s skin, or how Bane would get him to curl up against him, wrap an arm around him and stroke through his hair. He understood that this was far from their usual schedule, that Bane was on a break or something, and well, they both seemed to be enjoying that break a lot.

The swallow of coffee he took was bitter, and he nearly choked on it.

“There is no fucking way that is six sugars.”

“It is three, and that is still too much,” Bane argued and swatted his hand over the back of his head before he sat back down on the bed.

Blake blinked in surprise at the unexpected touch, the familiarity there. Barsad merely hummed in amusement. He looked wrung out, and Blake had gone to the bathroom after Bane had left to fix Barsad tea and him coffee. He could apparently add rope-play to his list of kinks. Not for himself, he didn’t want to get tied up, but watching as Bane’s fingers handled that rope masterfully, carefully wound each coil around Barsad’s arms, his legs, his chest, the most careful of knots around his throat until he was completely immobile, helpless as Bane played with him, made him try to thrash out only to be kept still—Christ, he’d even begged, he didn’t think Barsad was a beggar. It had been, well, something else.

He made a face, but drank the coffee anyway. He’d just stick some sugar in Barsad’s room. He shook away the thought. That was stupid. He wasn’t going to be in at the end of the week. Barsad would probably be more than happy to have him stop hanging out in his room. He didn’t seem to talk much to anyone else in the house, except Selina, who he constantly traded friendly barbs with. She didn’t ever come into his room, though, and well, it was really fucking stupid when he realized that Barsad right now was the closest thing he had to a friend and Bane might actually be the second closest. He really needed to get out more.

“So. Rope play, huh? You guys just make a list of things to do while Bane was on break? Should I expect to see Barsad in fishnets and rouge tomorrow?”

Barsad snorted. “Not even for the best of tips.”

“You would look rather handsome in them.” Bane tilted his head thoughtfully.

“No.”

Bane looked briefly surprised, and Blake had to wonder if Barsad ever really told him no. He smiled then, and skimmed his fingers down the planes of Barsad’s back. “If you do not think you can pull it off…”

Barsad sat up suddenly and narrowed his eyes. “I would make a fine woman. The best you could ever hope for.”

Bane grinned; John saw the briefest glimpse of crooked teeth, not surprising as he’d seen those teeth imprinted all along Barsad’s skin. “You allow yourself to be baited too easily. I would buy the stockings, though.”

Barsad pushed at his shoulder then laughed suddenly. “Perhaps it would be worth it, knowing you had to go and pick them.”

“I would most likely have to ask Talia where to go. Imagine my humiliation.”

“She would demand to know why. Perhaps take you herself to purchase them.” Barsad rolled over onto his back thoughtfully and put his feet into Bane’s lap. “Perhaps we should attempt it, after all.”

“How is it that your cross-dressing suddenly became about my own humiliation?”

They all laughed lightly then.

“Talia still wishes you would join the gym. She has called you ‘thick-headed’ on many occasions.”

“I must be thick-headed, for you bang me against the headboard too much to survive otherwise.” He sighed when Bane rubbed his feet slightly. “My own gym serves me well.”

Bane merely shrugged his shoulders and John wondered what he had missed, but the topic soon changed and they somehow began discussing movies late into the night, until Bane’s eyelids started to droop and Barsad shoved at him with his feet to wake him and sent him home.

By the end of the week, he felt settled in. He’d learned a lot. He was probably going to freak out internally at his first few clients, but that wasn’t surprising. It was like taking a test, you panic until you realized that you knew all of the answers, already.

His test results came back clean, not that he’d doubted. He flipped through the papers distractedly while Bane put a cup of coffee into his hand. Two sugars, the bastard was pushing it.

“I put some sugar on the dresser.”

Bane sighed, clearly heavily put upon and John was surprised, nearly smiled just a little bit when he saw those little packets. Maybe he wasn’t so unwelcome, after all. Then he thought he was probably getting far too sentimental over Dixie crystals, and put five into his coffee just to see Bane twitch.

“Thanks.”

“You are welcome. Be careful, he will try to confiscate them. He has tried with my cigarettes.”

“He is a pretty ruthless bastard.”

“Forgive me for trying to keep you both from an early grave. I simply do not understand how you expect to have sound minds with unsound bodies.”

“Hey! I work out. I jog like, three times a week.”

“You merely run around three times a week and then fill your body with toxins.” Bane shook his head. “At least Barsad boxes.”

Huh, he really had no idea where Barsad went when he left the brothel. It seemed rude to ask. Barsad didn’t ask where he went, and he didn’t want to share that, either, so he kept silent about it.

“You do?”

“I do. I am formidable… do not snort at that.” His eyes flickered with annoyance. That started an argument, some betting, a scuffle, and somehow John ended up flat on his back on the floor with a rapidly forming black eye and Barsad standing over him with his fist still drawn back.

“Ok… so you can box,” he wheezed out. That had been a stupid idea. He was pretty sure he’d banged his head on the dresser going down. Barsad was small, but he was fast as _fuck_. He had barely even seen him move.

“I can. I shall go get you some ice for that.”

“Cool. I’m just… going to lie down here for a few minutes. I like your rug.”


	6. Chapter 6

He heard laughter and Bane lifted him up onto the bed, his hand going to the back of his neck to steady him. He swallowed suddenly, feeling a rush of heat and embarrassment. He hated looking weak like that. Maybe he should have thought about that before he challenged Barsad, had tried to make _him_ look weak. Get what you give, he supposed.

“Perhaps you will think twice about judging someone’s prowess based on their size.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rubbed his cheek.

“He must like you. I’m fairly certain he was going easy on you.”

“Fuck, how do you even know?” His chest kind of warmed at the thought, though. Bane would probably know better than he did if Barsad liked someone. They both just needed to get over themselves and accept that they were way fucking closer than anything John had ever seen and then… well, ok, he didn’t know what then. Maybe they could date? Would Barsad have to charge for dates? Bane probably spent of lot of money at the brothel, was probably a decent part of Barsad’s income, from what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure how that would work out, but this didn’t seem right for either of them. He thought about saying something to one of them.

His eyeball tried to throb out of his skull, and he thought better of it.

____________________

Bane watched Blake and carefully pulled his fingers away from his face. He was going to hurt himself further with his clumsy rubs and swipes at his eye and cheek. He took over, instead, and gently pressed his fingers into the swell and forming bruises, inspecting. They would leave a shiner. He doubted their boss would be pleased with either of them with Blake starting his work tomorrow with a black eye. Barsad had felt the need to prove himself, though.

His frie—Barsad… often felt the need to prove such things. Bane had been able to teasingly goad him into things with a few careful pokes. It was a thrill to see those sleepy eyes light up in indignation, at the thought that one would ever consider him not able to handle himself. Bane was certain Barsad could handle the world, take it into his clever hands and slide it into his pocket if he so pleased, and so it was entertaining that he felt the need to prove it.

“I boxed with him once or twice,” he finally answered Blake’s question, felt the quickened breath against the palm of his hand as he rubbed. He was an entertaining boy. Bane had been unfairly annoyed with him when they had first met, for what he had perceived would be a week of vacation spent without Barsad’s very pleasurable company. Barsad, however… he was glad the man pushed him, did his own prodding until Bane relented and found that it had been a very pleasurable week, indeed, found that Blake was a pleasant enough boy to talk to.

“Did he lay you out flat, too? He’s a slippery fucker. I didn’t even see him MOVE,” Blake complained, and Bane could not help but chuckle at his tone.

“I am fast, as well. He is a strong opponent, though.”

_He stood at the doorway leading back to the office, not quite certain his eyes were not playing tricks on him. Their gym was small but efficient, they ran it together, and its clients were composed of those who truly wished to train, to work their bodies in a disciplined manner. Those who came were smart enough to pay little mind to the wrap around Bane’s face when he taught private Krav Maga courses or boxed._

_Talia had managed to flip that upside down and make this week a nightmare._

_Renovations. Renovations from a neighboring chain gym had put it out of commission for two weeks, and Talia, in a moment of cleverness and brutal negotiations, had agreed to allow those gym members use of their gym for free for the two weeks remodeling would take place. She argued that it served several purposes, the first being the good-sized chunk of commission they would get those two weeks for each outside member, and the second being that members might be swayed into joining a smaller, more private gym if they spent some time there._

_The sudden increased activity was a headache. He’d spent nearly all of his time in the office, working on paperwork, only venturing out to teach already scheduled lessons, feeling the eyes of those unfamiliar with him watching with curiosity as he walked past them._

_Talia told him that he would ‘get over it.’ She was hardly one for sympathy where she felt it was not due._

_He watched quietly as he saw a very familiar back, and, if he was honest, a very familiar ass. He faced the counter, speaking with Talia, a sight that filled him with no small measure of horror. He had always been very open and honest with Talia. She knew that he went to a brothel for pleasure, but having the object of his pleasures suddenly there, speaking with her… that was most uncomfortable. He thought to duck back into the office, but he would be teaching soon, and he would never shirk his duties even if it meant a possibly awkward encounter._

_He walked silently past the counter, making it to the small gym in which he held classes._

_“Bane!”_

_He made an inquisitive noise and turned to face Talia when she called him._

_Barsad was standing with her, his usually calm eyes lifted in surprise._

_“This is one of the men from the gym. He was in a boxing class there. Perhaps you could show him how much more efficient our own are.” Her tone was teasing, as though it was a joke, but he knew well she was quite serious and had set her eyes upon Barsad, had seen something in him that marked him as a potential new member. She left before he could speak, and they stood in silence for a long moment, then Barsad set down his bag, tilted his head to consider him. “It is a strange thing… to find myself paying you.”_

_They laughed together and Barsad gave him a small smile. “You do not mind me joining your class?”_

_“That would depend on if you can keep up.”_

_“I will make you sweat for me, for once,” he promised, and Bane laughed again, relaxed and they taped their hands in companionable silence while waiting for the few other members to join into the lesson. Bane was impressed by Barsad’s quick movements, his quiet strength, how deceptive his lithe frame was, even when he knew it so intimately._

_The lesson came and went. Other’s left, Barsad stayed, stretched, went to the punching bag and worked out more energy._

_“You have an impressive stamina.”_

_Barsad chuckled softly, smirking. “I have had to build it for many reasons. Will you box with me?” He stopped his hits to turn and look at him questioningly._

_He had set Barsad up with a partner closer to his weight division during the class… and then had switched him to a more skilled opponent soon after, but they had not sparred with one another. He would never insult Barsad by implying or even thinking he was not a worthy opponent; he merely nodded his ascent, touched knuckles and squared off with him._

_It was like a dance. He had often equated boxing to such, but it had never felt more true as he watched Barsad move, as they exchanged blocks and blows. Barsad was quite good at feinting, and if he did not know him before their match he would have fallen for his tricks many times._

_Barsad signaled a pause in their match. “You should take off your scarf, there is no one here, and it cannot be comfortable.”_

_He paused to consider it then took his key and locked the gym door. Barsad considered the movement. “Do you own the gym?”_

_“I do; Talia and I run it together.”_

_“She is as lovely as you described.”_

_He smiled softly at that and unwound his scarf. “She is lovelier, still. She would never let me live it down, were she to discover who you are.”_

_“Perhaps I shall leave her my card.”_

_Any other man he might have laid out on the floor for such a comment. With Barsad, he merely laughed, shoved lightly at his shoulder and they went back to their sparring._

_“You are quite good, nearly as good as I am.”_

_“Better,” Barsad boasted playfully, and Bane found himself having to sidestep quickly. “For I do not have so much muscle holding me in place.”_

_“You are quite a small man,” he agreed, “but you will lose this fight, all the same.”_

_“I will have you on the floor. You can bet on it.”_

_“And what will be my prize when I have YOU on the floor?”_

_Barsad seemed to consider the question even as they exchanged jabs. “You may do with me what you wish on the floor, for free.”_

_Bane had never worked so hard to lay out an opponent._

_When he was laid out on the ground and panting as promised, Barsad laughed and spit out his mouth guard. “You… are quite skilled.”_

_“There is a reason I am the teacher.” He crouched low and could not resist running a finger across Barsad’s lips. It felt as though he always desired them against his, that one of the best parts of seeing Barsad was when he would press close and cup his cheeks, kiss all over his lips with passion. He always marveled and tried not to make his breath catch each time Barsad would lick over a scar, treat it as though it were something to cherish, to bathe in kisses, not the ugliness he knew them to be._

_Barsad licked out along his finger, sucking it into his mouth wetly. Bane wished he had a condom on him, lube, but they were not exactly things that he kept on his person while he trained in the gym. Barsad’s already sleepy eyes drooped further when he slid another finger between his lips, felt them nipped at playfully. “Do not… feel pressured.” He did not wish Barsad to feel that he had to do this with him for an offhanded bet._

_“A wager was made,” Barsad murmured as he kissed the tips of his fingers, winking cheekily. “It seems I am yours for the taking. Shall I suck you?”_

_He gave up on the argument that he did not truly wish to win and dropped down, pressed his hands into the soft mats below them and framed Barsad’s face. “I will accept your kisses, instead.”_

_  
“They are more highly prized,” Barsad agreed and wrapped an arm around his neck, slotted their mouths together with a pleased noise. His tongue flicked across his scars, making him shiver like it always did, coaxing him open, like he wished to do for him but could never quite seem to initiate. Barsad always drew out things in him that were hidden away, plucked them up easily, and the man could not possibly even realize it, could not understand the things he did to him or surely he would put an end to him as a client, politely of course, for Barsad had a kinder heart than he showed, but he would be gently declined, perhaps referred to another in the brothel._

_He was not willing to let such a thing happen. He was content to keep things as they were now, if it meant he would not lose this feeling.  It would do no one any good to make Barsad uncomfortable simply because his own heart was a fickle thing, a lonely thing._

_He licked against the sharp, neat ridge of Barsad’s teeth, felt them bite and catch at his lower lip, suck it until it was tender and let it pop out from between them to lick over it. He growled lightly and delved into his mouth again before he kissed down his throat, licking at the salt and sweat from their sparring. “Let me suck you…”_

_Barsad responded by raising his hips up in a quiet offering, and Bane tugged down his shorts, slid down his body, pushing his shirt out of the way and nipping at his hipbones before taking him into his mouth._

_Barsad sighed, a low groan leaving his lips, relaxed and pleasured. Bane had come to know many of the different noises he could wring from the man beneath him, and they were all quite wonderful to hear. He sucked a wet kiss at the tip of him, ran his tongue down his shaft slowly and played with him until he had him shuddering under him. He held his thighs, feeling them flex and shift restlessly. The warning pull at his head and a low cry were cautions that Barsad was close, and he pulled back, wrapped his fist around him and jerked him slowly so he could watch how his mouth dropped open and his eyes shut tightly when he came on his belly._

_He laughed lightly when he lapped up the mess on Barsad’s belly and it dipped and made him squirm, ticklish, but only when he was at his most relaxed. He licked him clean with his tongue before sliding his shirt back down._

_“Quite an enjoyable bet.”_

_Barsad huffed under him, eyes still closed. “I believe that I should pay you for that.”_

_“I won. I get to choose the prize.”_

_He received a lazy smile before he tucked himself back in and sat up. He hesitated a moment, worried this sudden unexpected excursion might prove to be awkward, but Barsad merely stretched and demanded he unlock the gym doors so he could head to the showers. He chuckled and did so, neglecting his own arousal for the moment and taking a few minutes to calm himself._

_Talia entered and her eyes were full of trouble and mischief._

_“I heard the most… interesting of noises.”_


	7. Chapter 7

_Bane pondered if perhaps the floor might be merciful and swallow him whole, anything to avoid this discussion. There was no point in lying, though. Talia would see right through such a thing._

_“Do you lie with our customers often? Perhaps it should be added to their fees.”_

_He groaned and wrapped his scarf, shifting when her eyes looked over him, clearly noticing his state._

_“Who is he?”_

_“He is… the man I have been visiting.”_

_“The whore? He was quite attractive and seemed very polite; good choice.”_

_“Perhaps, you do not need to humiliate me by approving of who I am sleeping with so readily.”_

_She laughed softly. “Perhaps you should not fuck them in the gym.”_

_It was a fair point._

_“It will not happen again.”_

_“Do not be so hasty. The renovations to his gym are not yet done. Perhaps he will visit again.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “If you started fucking him here, then you would not be out so late.”_

_“Talia…”_

_“I am not a child, Bane. I will tease you as mercilessly as I wish to,” she informed him quite happily._

_And so she did, when Barsad left the showers, she swooped down and pulled him aside before Bane could give him fair warning. She spoke to him in hushed tones and Barsad glanced over towards him once with a look of panic that could be seen even in his sleepy eyes._

_She finally let him be and Bane went over to offer his apologies, his condolences. Barsad blinked at him owlishly. “She is… every bit as persistent as you told me.” He shook his head, going back to his unruffled appearance. “She tried to get me to sign with your gym.”_

_Bane groaned and Barsad laughed, patted his arm and left._

_But he kept showing up, all week. Joined the class, stayed after, lost their wager. Bane took him into his mouth each time so that by the end of the week, when it was time for his actual appointment with Barsad, after a week of tasting him, of watching his face when he orgasmed, of choosing not to reciprocate… he fucked into him so roughly that he had him nearly screaming. He took him again right after, his passion not lessened, wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed firmly, felt him squirm and twitch around him but mouth at his fingers, kiss them. He fell asleep with him crushed under him, wrapped up around him as he ran lazy fingers through his beard and traced the soft smile Barsad had on his lips._

_Barsad had not joined the gym, but Talia persisted in asking about him. She saw a little too well into his heart for his own good._

“Strong? The guy is like lightening,” Blake mumbled, and Bane laughed, rubbed his thumbs carefully against the rapidly blooming bruise still. Blake swallowed, appeared near nervous. It was entertaining.

“How do you expect to service clients if you are nearly blushing just from a touch to the cheek?”

Blake shoved his hand away and rubbed at his eye. “Screw you. It’s not… it’s just… different, ok? Don’t be such an asshole.”

Bane made a curious noise and merely manhandled Blake’s head back into place so he could rub again.

“Different?”

“Yeah, it’s just… You two are fucking something else, you know that, right? Do you even REALIZE?”

“Realize what?” Barsad stood in the doorway, eyes focused on Blake as he walked over to push a bag of frozen vegetables into his hands a bit roughly.

“Nothing, Jesus, thanks for punching me out, fucker.” Blake pushed his hands away and stood up stiffly, walked out the door with the bag over his eye.

Bane followed him with his eyes, feeling slightly unsure how this had appeared to end on bad terms.

“I am sure Talia is waiting for you.” Barsad dug around in his dresser for a change of clothes.

“Is something wrong?”

“Of course not.” He pulled a pair of pajama pants out and walked over to the bed to kiss him. “You have merely worn me through this week. I wish to rest.”

“And here I thought your energy was as relentless as your tongue,” he teased, but it was not returned with a usual barb. He frowned slightly and took Barsad’s hand, pulled him into his lap. “Did you not enjoy it?”

Barsad made a noise of protest at being tugged, but relented finally and pressed his lips to his brow. “It was a very enjoyable week.”

He relaxed and ran a hand down Barsad’s cheek. “Talia will be happy for my return to work. She was very perturbed by my absence at the gym… and I fear to see what she has done to it since I have been away.”

That earned a laugh, and the strange tension that had visited the room evaporated. “When is she going to send me another meal?”

He groaned. Talia had insisted that Barsad was far too slender and that Bane was probably “working him to the bone.” When she took the time to make a big meal, she sent him to Barsad with a plate. He worked hard not to feel embarrassed that the woman he regarded as close to him as a little sister sent him off with a Tupperware container stuffed with rice and lamb curry when she knew he was going to see a whore. He accepted that their bond was a strange one, indeed, not something many would understand.

_At first, Barsad had looked bewildered when he had stuffed the still hot container into his hands and told him that Talia had ordered him to eat it before it got cold._

_“She says I probably fuck you too hard to eat after.” He made a slight face and Barsad barked out a laugh._

_“I am glad she holds high expectations for you. Why has she brought me food, though?” He tilted the container curiously, but sat on the bed, lifting off the lid and sniffing._

_“I… She is a stubborn woman. I avoid questioning how her mind works.” They had nearly argued earlier. He had not appreciated Talia’s… accusations. That it was ‘strange’ that he only saw one whore, that he talked about him often enough, and that she had heard them more than once at the gym.  She had politely informed him to either stop getting too close or to give in and get even closer. He could only assume this was her way of forcing the issue._

_“You are wise. I scarcely escaped your gym without signing up for it.” Barsad chuckled and dipped his fingers into the rice, using it to gather some curry and take a bite. Bane couldn’t help but be fascinated. He had never seen Barsad do something as domestic as eat a meal. He took off his scarf and sat beside him to watch._

_Barsad opened his mouth and sucked in a breath. “It is hot! Does she perhaps mean to poison me, instead?”_

_He laughed. “Eat it with more of the rice, it cools the heat.”_

_“If I do not wither and die first.” He fanned his tongue. “Eat with me, it is far too much for me alone.”_

_“She will surely kill me if I eat even a morsel.” He scooped up a mouthful and fed it to him, his eyes lowering when Barsad licked his fingers clean. It was a motion worth repeating several times until food was forgotten and he pulled Barsad in for a kiss, felt his own mouth heating from the spice when his tongue licked into his mouth._

“I am somewhat amazed she did not send you a meal every day this week. Perhaps she was trying to give me a true vacation from her torment.”

Barsad kissed him lightly and stood. “Tell her you have crippled me with your passions, and only her goat stew will revive me.”

He snorted and smacked a palm over his ass before he left, knowing Talia would only be all too pleased to have a request. When he slipped into their apartment that evening, he was not surprised to see her seated at the counter poring over a book he had given her. She always waited up when he was late.

“Did he give your vacation a good send off?” she asked, sounding entertained but not taking her eyes from the page. She always inquired about how his night went, not caring how it was not entirely an appropriate question.

“He did. He requests your stew.” He unwrapped his scarf and draped it over her head.

She laughed and dropped it onto the counter. “For putting up with your amorous hands for a week, he deserves it.” He snorted and looked to see where she was in the book, kissed the top of her head and began to discuss it with her while he fixed something to eat and them both some tea.

He sighed when he saw how much honey she poured into her cup.

“You will be as bad as John soon,” he commented without thinking.

She finally looked up from her book, eyebrows raised. “Who?”

He had managed to go all week without mentioning it. One small slip would be his undoing for merciless teasing. He sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “No one; just another man where Barsad works.” He knew it would not be let go when she gasped.

“Bane! Have you taken another? You have forsaken your lover?”

He tugged at her hair. “Please, do not call him that, he would be very upset, and no, I have not. He is new; Barsad was to teach him for the week.”

Talia’s lips twisted into an amused smirk. “Oh, and did you help? Did you teach him many, many new things?”

“Not as you are thinking. He merely watched.”

She laughed. “Were YOU paid?”

He tugged her hair again, but he smiled. “No, perhaps I should have asked Barsad for a cut.”

“Ask next time. Tell me about John, is he attractive?”

“I doubt he would work in a brothel if he was not.”

“No, attractive to YOU. Should I tell you not to pursue him? You would break Barsad’s lonely heart.”

“Talia…” He did not like when she spoke like that. It made him feel something heavy shift inside his own heart.

She turned and kissed his temple. “Alright, I am done, but you know how I feel.”

“All too well.”

She smiled and he sighed, overwhelmed by how she looked so grown now. He could remember when he first saw her so many years ago with her mother.

_He set down his bag with a low groan. The job he had taken working at the docks was back breaking, but it paid for his small apartment with enough to tuck away a small portion each week while he studied for business. When he had decided to leave his own country on a whim, it was better than he expected to have so soon coming with nothing._

_There was a tired sigh beside him and he glanced over, moved his bag aside when he realized he was blocking the narrow hallway for one of his neighbors._

_“I am sorry.”_

_She looked weary, surprised that he would apologize, and nodded to him before pulling out her key. There was a rustle, the thud of something hitting the floor and a ball rolled across it, nudged against his boot. He knelt down to pick it up and found himself face to face with a child, a young girl with tufty brown hair who was giving him quite a stern look._

_“That is my ball,” she informed him and held her hand out expectantly._

_“So I see. I was not trying to take it.” He held it out in his palm and she carefully snatched up the yellow rubber ball. “I was simply picking it up to return it.”_

_She paused and tilted her head, holding the ball in both hands. “Boys try to take my ball.”_

_“Boys are quite ill-mannered,” he agreed._

_“They are stupid. I kick them and they do not try again.” She gave him a wicked little grin that lacked several of her front teeth. He couldn’t help but laugh. The child’s mother scolded her, apologized. He stood and smiled at her politely before he went into his own apartment._

_He saw her several more times in the hall, always with her mother who seemed to come home from the same shift as he did. She often spoke to him, informed him that he looked strange with no hair when he was not old, that she was eight and her name was Talia, and that he should tell her his name._

_It seemed impolite not to tell her, to reassure her mother that he did not mind being asked questions. She seemed like a good woman, kind, and he sometimes saw her carrying Talia down the hall half asleep in her arms. He offered to get her door for her one day and finally discovered her name was Melisande, that she took Talia to work with her each day and was teaching her herself._

_“Thank you for humoring her.” She sounded exhausted as she tucked Talia onto the couch, wrapped a blanket around her small frame. “I do not get to take her to the park as much as I would like. It is usually too dark. She gets to see so few other people. I am certain she is quite bored of me.”_

_“It is no trouble; she is spirited.”_

_She laughed. “I would have her no other way.”_

_He hesitated, unsure if it would seem strange, inappropriate. He had not held many interactions with children. “Perhaps I could take her to the park on a day off? I would simply need to watch her there, yes?”_

_She hesitated. “I could not ask you to do that.”_

_“It would be no trouble, though I understand if you do not wish for me to.” He would certainly not be offended by her being prudent._

_She smiled suddenly at that, shook her head. “It is not that. You have kind eyes. You are the only neighbor that has ever even spoken to us, and I can sense goodness in you, but I doubt you wish to spend your few days off on a playground.”_

_That drew a low laugh from him. “I scarcely do much else beyond sleep and train.” He shrugged. “I am new here, I do not have many connections. I would not mind something to do.”_


	8. Chapter 8

_Talia was thrilled. She possessed a boundless energy that she insisted he keep up with every Thursday when he would pick her up early from her mother’s work, take whatever lunch Melisande had packed for both of them and eat it on a bench together before she raced him to the jungle gym. He would help her on the monkey bars, watch as she leapt dangerously from pole to pole but did not allow him to help, merely stand under her to catch her should she fall._

_Melisande often invited him over for dinner after that, and he found he liked the company, enjoyed how Talia tried to hold such serious conversations with them both though she was so young._

_“She had to grow up fast,” Melisande explained quietly one day as he helped her put away the dishes. It had been several months since their arrangement, and they had talked much since then. He did not pry, but she seemed to wish to tell him and so he listened._

_“I am… hiding,” she continued. It was not so surprising; many who lived in that area of the city were hiding from something. “My family, they owe money, not myself,” she was quick to add, “but they would try to seek it from me, from my body.” It was said with tightly pressed lips, and Bane understood._

_“Can I help you?” He could not help but ask, but Melisande shook her head, giving him a small smile._

_“It is… a great sum, something that cannot be repaid.”_

_“What of Talia’s fath—”_

_“He is not in the picture,” She quickly interrupted. “He does not know of her. He is too brave a man. He would try to stop them instead of running, and he would die. I keep her from him to protect us all.”_

_He looked at her with new admiration, hesitated and gently touched her hand. “If I can help you, please let me know.”_

_“You are helping.” She patted his hand in return. “Talia adores you. You are very good to her.”_

_“She is a bright child. I enjoy her company and yours.”_

_She kissed him gently on the cheek and it nearly made him blush._

_“So young, still, but more a man than most I have seen.”_

_He left that night feeling comfortable, more content with his life than he had in some time._

_He woke to screams._

_There was little doubt in his mind where they came from. He bounded from his bed and to the hall. The door to Melisande’s apartment had been broken open. No one else in the building had even opened their door. He could hear Talia crying, saw her surrounded by a group of men, their faces covered like the cowards they were. They narrowed in on her._

_It was already too late for Melisande._

_They attacked him, blocked the door. He was strong, he knew how to fight well, but there were only so many men he could face at once. He had to think quickly. In a quick motion, he scooped up Talia into his arms and barreled through the men to Melisande’s small bedroom, barricading the door behind him._

_“Mama!” Talia screamed and banged at the door._

_“There is no time!” He could not fault her her grief, but they were trapped, only a small window was in that room and the door would not hold long. He ran to the window and shoved it open with a noisy screech of protest, paint flaking down onto his hands. No fire escape._

_The door was splintering._

_He would never fit through the window, but she might._

_Bane grabbed her up again and pushed her to it. They were several stories high, but there was a balcony on the building across from theirs. She had to be able to make it. He had seen how she could leap across the playground._

_“Talia. You must be the one to go get help.”_

_She started to protest and he smacked her cheek, cringing inwardly but knowing it was needed._

_“You must go, or we will both die.”_

_She climbed onto the tiny ledge and he watched her as her slender legs crouched. She looked back at him as the door finally gave way._

_“GO!”_

_She sprang forward, and when he was surrounded by them with their knives and cruel eyes, he knew in his heart she had made it._

_Their prize gone, the men were enraged. They made him pay for Melisande’s family’s debt with his face._

He could still remember how the blade felt in his mouth, how it had clicked against his teeth and nicked his gums. It had been a small pain in comparison to the sudden yank of the knife outward, the carving of him from cheek to cheek, how they had forced his jaw open to make blood stream from him, to force the wounds open even further. They had beaten him, after. He had been sure he would die then, broken on that apartment floor and soaked in blood, but Talia had been smart, had called the police, for they were much faster to respond to a child weeping about their mother dying than they would have been otherwise for their neighborhood.

He had spent weeks at the hospital recovering. Talia had been unharmed, and had stayed by his side. When they had asked, he had told them she was his daughter; his face did not look so young anymore, and they believed him. When the bandages had been removed from his face, he had felt as though he was a monster until she had crawled into his lap and touched each one with tiny, delicate fingers.

It had taken some forgery of paperwork, something he was not proud of, to allow him to keep Talia, but she had had no one. He had had no idea where her father was, and Melisande had left no trace of where her family could be. After, he wore scarves whenever he was out. Barsad had been the first beyond Talia to see his scars.

She patted his cheek. “You are lost in the past. I can tell that look on you.”

He smiled at her and took her hand. “I was merely thinking how lucky I was to have found you.”  There was a sudden flash of guilt in her eyes, and he would not allow it. He pulled her into his lap, his lips twisting into a grin at her startled cry. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Talia.”

“And the worst,” she returned, tracing her fingers over the marring of his lips.

“I would take them again a thousand times over to see you safe,” he promised. “To see you happy.”

She snorted, pushing at his face. “Let me worry about YOUR happiness, Bane. No one else does.”

He carried her to the couch, ignoring how she beat at his chest in indignation that she was far too old for such treatment. He flopped onto it to punish her for her endless torment, and laughed at her squeak. “I am plenty happy,” he assured her.

She pursed her lips and smacked his chest once more for good measure. “I would be happier if you were to bring Barsad home with you.”

He groaned. “Do not start this.”

“He is lovely.”

“I am glad you think so. You have fine taste in whores.”

“Maybe I shall buy him for a night when I turn eighteen.”

“I will strike having heard you say that from my memory,” he informed her and plopped her onto the couch, heading for bed.

“I will send you with stew your next visit!” she called out happily as he shut his bedroom door.

He was mortified that for his next visit he discovered that she’d packed enough stew for three.

____________________

Barsad scooped some of the stew into his mouth and chewed happily. Talia’s food was the best he had ever tasted, once he had adjusted to the level of spices.

Blake was too busy fanning his tongue to appreciate it.

“Ow, hot, fuck. How do you eat this?” he whined and gulped down some coffee, trading one heat for another.

“It is an acquired skill,” he admitted. “It took me some time to adjust. Eat it with the rice.” Blake shot him a bit of a look, his eye still looking swollen near shut. He had received a stern reprimand for his actions, part of his pay docked to pay for Blake’s uselessness over the next few days.

_“I will not have a new whore whose first impression with the customers is a bruised face. Did you wish for our customers to think I beat the new ones to get them to stay?”_

It was a fair point, if a little exaggerated. He often had bruises from sparring, and a few more from Bane after a particularly intense visit. None of his customers had said a negative word about finding them, and, if anything, some of them enjoyed pressing into them to make him hiss and twist for them. Still, Blake was a pretty one, fresh and new; he supposed it wouldn’t do to mark him.

He thought Blake would be too angry at him to visit after their spar, but he had shown up the next day between Barsad’s shifts, scowling but flopping into the chair by his bed as if he belonged there.

_“You throw a mean swing.” He was still favoring his eye, rubbing at it a little. He felt a slight sting inside, remembering how he had walked in on Bane tenderly rubbing the bruise. It was pushed aside quickly. Blake was new, young. It was natural for Bane to have a passing interest, and Blake would learn soon enough that it was bad business to steal away customers from other workers. “I’m sorry. I was being an ass.”_

_Barsad was surprised by the apology. He was used to having to prove his strength. He had learned to fight for many reasons, one of which was for men who could not take a ‘no’ for what it was. “I could teach you. It is a good skill to learn.” He lounged back on his bed and smoked, lazily blowing out smoke rings. “One never knows when they must fight.”_

_“I do know how to fight, ok? Just not like THAT. I’ve gotten into plenty of fights.”_

_He chuckled and glanced over at Blake’s black eye, finally holding out the cigarette for the other man to take a drag. “But how many did you win?”_

_It was snatched from his fingers begrudgingly. “I’m here, aren’t I? Alive. That’s winning enough for me.”_

_“Perhaps. I prefer to leave my mark on them, let them never forget that I survived them.”_

_“Christ, you sound scary as shit when you put it like that.”_

_He grinned cruelly. “You are fortunate that I like you.”_

He had not seen Bane for several days after. It had not been surprising, he usually visited once or twice a week depending on his schedule, and with his vacation over, he was sure he had things to catch up on with work. Still, he had found himself slightly more bored without his visits. His usual clients were pleasant enough, some wonderful, in fact, and he wished the best for them, but none thrilled him like Bane managed to do.

When Bane had called ahead, he had smiled secretively, snapped shut his cell phone and tucked it away, ignoring Blake’s curious look. He had tried to shoo him away discreetly, but found he could not bring himself to do it. The boy seemed lonely in a way that he could recall feeling in his youth. He would probably soon be too busy to feel such a thing, and so he had let him stay for the moment. It had been worth it to see Bane’s look of embarrassment as he shoved a bowl of stew into each of their hands.

“You can keep nothing from her, can you?” he had asked, chuckling at John’s perplexed look.

“It would seem not,” Bane had replied. “Eat, or I will never hear the end of it.” He had sat down heavily on the bed and eaten with them in silence.

Barsad finished his food, licked his fingers, and slid up behind him. He placed his hands onto Bane’s shoulders and dug his fingers into the knot of muscle he found there.

“You are as tight as a drum skin. You are already working too hard again,” he scolded. Bane merely lowered his head and groaned as his fingers worked up the back of his neck, massaging his scalp. Soon Bane’s bowl was set aside and they began to exchange heated kisses. Bane pulled and twisted him until he fell sprawled into his lap gracelessly and he huffed in indignation, bit his lip in retribution.

There was the sound of Blake quickly scooting out of his chair.

“I will start charging you if you keep watching,” Barsad warned him between kisses, and glanced over at Blake who clearly barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “And you have not a cent to your name until you begin work. Do not start your job already indebted to me.”


	9. Chapter 9

“You have not started work?” Bane pulled away from him suddenly. He sounded curious, and it settled unpleasantly in Barsad’s stomach.

“Probably tomorrow.” Blake set his bowl down on the dresser. “Ra’s wanted to make sure makeup would actually cover up the shiner Barsad gave me.”

“It is quite a war wound.”

“I kind of deserved it. I’ll catch you guys later. Thank Talia for the food for me, ok?” He walked out, and Bane watched him leave. Barsad supposed he could not blame him. The boy had a lovely ass that was shown off in the jeans he wore. Still.

He guided Bane’s head back towards him and smiled slightly at the heat that was directed at him in his gaze. Bane growled lightly and brushed his lips across his throat.

“Blake is an entertaining boy. Very good looking.”

He held back a face. It was certainly not something he wished to discuss at that time, but he shrugged his shoulders, sucked in a breath as Bane bit lightly at one of his nipples and made heat pulse through his body. “He is handsome.”

“Are his rates the same as yours?” Bane asked, and Barsad felt the warmth in him fan out quickly.

“I do not know what Ra’s will be charging. Why? Trading me in for the younger model?” He grimaced at the snappishness in his own tone. It was childishness in itself. Everyone had varying tastes, and he had done what he could for Bane. Perhaps he had given him enough confidence that he would pursue Blake, enjoy him. He wished him the best of luck.

Bane looked at him, seeming surprised by the question. “No, Barsad.”

He smoothed his tone before he spoke. “I could probably get him to give you a discount,” he offered and scooted out of Bane’s lap. There would be no hard feelings here, no tightness in his chest at the idea, just a bit of thought that he would be losing a very good tipper. “I am sure you would not mind the bruise, perhaps I could get Ra’s to let you have him now.”

Bane looked at him again for a long moment then pulled him back, ran a finger thoughtfully through his beard. “I was merely thinking… that the two of you would look very beautiful together,” he finally said. “And that perhaps you would let me pay to watch you together.”

He should not have felt his stomach drop with relief at those words. It worried him for himself. “I don’t do threesomes.” It was not true; he’d been paid for such things before, and enjoyed them well enough. He was not even certain with himself why he lied.

“I am not asking for a threesome, Barsad. I am asking to watch the two of you together, only watch; though I understand if you do not wish for that, either.” He guided him gently to lie down, his large hands seemed more uncertain than they had been for years with him. He disliked it. He put his own hands on them briefly, then pulled at him until he was towering over him, arms bracketing his shoulders.

“That is another matter entirely,” he found himself reassuring Bane, felt the hesitation leave him as they kissed again and Bane nudged his thighs apart with his knee.

“Only if it will not make you uncomfortable,” Bane whispered against his ear then licked a broad stripe over the shell of it.

“Of course not.” He was a professional. He reminded himself of that as Bane took him, as he nudged him out of bed with his feet and helped him gather up the plastic ware. He was a professional, and it was something he had let himself forget. That had to remedied.  
“She does not need to keep sending me food,” he insisted. He had gotten too close to this. This sudden strange jealousy inside of him had shown him that.

Bane merely chuckled. “Tell her that, not me, for I have never been able to tell her no.”

“Give it to Blake, then; he could certainly use the nourishment more than I.”

“You are both equally slender and small, as far as I am concerned.” It was a tease, but it still bit at him to be seen as interchangeable with Blake. “Will you be available next Thursday, after my shift?”

He shook his head. “I am booked. Many clients have missed me after clearing my schedule.”

Bane made a disappointed noise and leaned to kiss him as he dressed. Barsad turned so the kiss hit his cheek. He ignored the surprised look and picked up Bane’s scarf, winding it around his neck for him, knotting it. “I am sure I will see you soon enough; try John if I am busy.”

His fingers were caught up and squeezed slightly. “I do not have an interest in John unless it is to watch him with you. As I said, I think you two would be very beautiful.” It was a sweet lie, and perhaps Bane was even lying to himself. He merely gave him a smile and bade him goodbye.

He ended up in Selina’s rooms the next day, lying out on her bed and watching as she leafed through her tips. She did not like to come to his room, complaining of the smell of smoke, but he had ended up in hers on more than one occasion. He considered her as much of a friend as he considered anyone.

“Ultimately, I do not feel I am wrong in blaming you for this,” he remarked, fingering over one of her diamond necklaces until she smacked his fingers for smudging it and took it away.

“I told you to fuck him, not fall in love with him. Braid my hair.”

“I assure you it is not quite _that_ dire.” He sighed and sat up, sifting through her silky locks and twisting them deftly into a braid. He made a face at her disbelieving noise.

“If you’re just jealous, tell Blake to fuck off.” She rummaged carefully through her jewelry box and slipped a single ring onto her finger. For all of the jewelry she received from men and women, she always chose to wear only a piece or two at a time.

“He hasn’t done anything, and it is hardly his fault if someone shows interest. It is, in fact, his job.”

She shrugged and stood, studied her appearance in the mirror for a moment then glanced back at him. “So what are you going to do?”

That, he did not know. “I was thinking, perhaps, of deferring Bane to Blake from now on.”

That earned a scoff. “Don’t. Blake’s starting tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Well, then you owe me once again because I’m going to make sure he’s too busy for Bane to even have time to show an interest in him.”

He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, and she merely smiled at him. “If that’s what you’d like, anyway.”

“It would be best for me to make a clean break.”

“Hey. Don’t talk to me about ‘what’s best.’ Do you want my help or not?”

He knew he was flirting with disaster here, that he should stop seeing Bane as a client. His stomach clenched at the idea, at glimpsing him in the halls as he went to see John, at perhaps bumping into him in the kitchen as he went to bring John a cup of coffee after a session. He sighed and nodded gratefully.

“Yes.”

“Great. I like having men owing me favors.”

____________________

“Hey, kid!”

Barsad did not look up from his breakfast as Selina called out to Blake who bristled when he realized Selina was referring to him.

“I’m not a fucking kid.”

Selina ignored him. “You’re starting today, right?”

“Yeah…” Blake looked at her warily, proving his intelligence. His eye looked better, some powder and it was barely noticeable. “I’m supposed to start today, I guess. I mean I don’t have any clients lined up—”

“Now you do,” she cut him off. “I have a client who likes rookies.”

“You want me to take one of your clients? Isn’t that kind of like, I dunno, poaching?”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” She snagged an apple from the basket and bit into it, winking. “He always comes right back to me.” She pursed her lips slightly and ran her hand down her hips. Blake’s eyes followed. “I’m not scared of him getting tired of this any time soon.”

That earned a couple of laughs from around the table and some light agreement. There weren’t many women in the house, and Selina was definitely a favorite. Blake looked around uncertainly, but nodded. “Ok, well, thanks.”

Selina smiled and bumped her hip against his shoulder before she sat down on at the table. “Just treat him right, kid. He’s high class.”

“How high?”

“Bruce Wayne high.”

“Christ, who is he?”

She laughed. “Bruce Wayne.”

Barsad reached up and thumped his hand sharply over Blake’s back when he choked on his food. “We do get high-end clientele here, Blake. I’m sure Ra’s mentioned that. They like the discretion.”

“Yeah, I just, I guess I didn’t realize how high-end.”

“Wait until the police commissioner comes,” Crane remarked casually, not looking up from his book as he ate.

“The police commissioner?” Blake balked.

“Hey, his wife left him; a guy has needs, you know?” Selina defended him. “He’s a hell of a lot better than any of the other cops that have come sniffing around. He doesn’t stop by often, but when he does, he doesn’t try to get a discount, tips, and treats you right; a real gentleman. You just never breathe a word of it to anyone. There’s a reason Ra’s has you sign a silence contract. It’s the most important thing we offer here.”

Blake nodded seriously. “I know, I actually read through it. I like to know what I’m signing.”

“Smart kid. Go wash up, I’m gonna go give Bruce a call, tell him he should come check you out.” She left and Blake watched her go.

“Shouldn’t it be weird that she has Bruce Wayne’s number?”

Crane closed his book and stood to leave. “She probably has the entire Wayne board in her contacts list, as well as several other major corporations,” he remarked dryly before nodding a goodbye and leaving. Crane was not much for talking if it wasn’t done in the bedroom; then it was rather hard to keep the man quiet, and his clientele enjoyed it.

“Nervous?” Barsad asked Blake as others cleared out and he picked at his food.

“Nah, I mean, that’s a little… intimidating, I guess, but—” He shrugged. “I’ve got this.”

“He’s pleasant enough, fairly full of himself on most occasions, but not terribly overbearing.” He would not speak of the other times when the man seemed sullen and it wasn’t the sounds of sex that drifted from Selina’s walls but of gentle comfort. Selina gave her clients what they needed, as well. Bruce could go to any brothel for just sex; discretion was not something he needed to worry about. He came back to Selina not just for that, but for other things that would be kept secret.

Selina had told him once that Bruce had offered her a job in his company, something frivolous but with a title. She had turned him down, but still thought it was sweet. She liked him well enough, but she liked running her own show and didn’t want to feel like she owed anyone anything, though she certainly liked possessing favors. This was definitely one. She wasn’t one to ever give someone one of her clients for nothing, especially not Bruce, no matter how wrapped she had the man around her finger.

“Thanks. Wish me luck.” Blake laughed nervously and left the breakfast area.


	10. Chapter 10

“So, you’re the new kid? You’re right, Selina, he does look nice.” Bruce looked him over appraisingly. They were in the main hall now, and Blake wasn’t sure exactly what he should be doing except for standing there and letting Bruce look him over.

“I’m not a kid,” he muttered out for possibly the fifth time that day. “Look, uh, is this happening or…” He knew it was the wrong thing to say. He wasn’t fucking smooth as hell about this like Barsad, though. He needed to be able to work up to that sort of thing.

Selina shot him a slight look and leaned against Bruce’s side. “He’s got a great ass. You should go have fun.”  
That was apparently all it took. Bruce tilted his head in consideration and flashed him a smile. “Sounds good; let’s go.”

“Have fun!” Selina called out. Yeah, fun.

He stripped off his shirt and tried not to fidget when Bruce shut the door to his bedroom. He felt a little embarrassed by how sparse it looked. He didn’t have anything but the bed, the dresser and a lamp in view. He got over it fast, though; Bruce Wayne wasn’t exactly here to look at his furnishings.

“You nervous?”

“Nah,” he brushed him off and tossed his shirt into the corner of the room. “I’ve done porn. What do you want?”

“For you to move a lot slower, to start. I have all day.”

“Christ, you bought me out for the DAY?”

“I don’t like to rush things, and when there’s something I’m going to pursue, I take my time.”

 

Bruce Wayne was a very, very dedicated man.

 

“Holy shit,” he huffed out and yanked at Bruce’s hair to finally pull him off his dick. Unfortunately, he was learning that it just seemed to egg him on. He finally relinquished him, though, and John flopped back onto the bed, panting. He was going to need to wash the sheets. Later.

“Mhm.” Bruce smirked a little and John was surprised that when he lit up Bruce took a drag from it.

“Didn’t really think you’d smoke.”

“I don’t, much. Not exactly good for the image.” He handed it back and lay out beside him, arm behind his head. “You ready to go ahead, in a few?”

“Jesus Christ, yeah, if you don’t try to swallow me whole this time.” He rolled his eyes when Bruce just smirked. “I thought you didn’t care about your image, anyway.”

“Nah, the trick is to make it look like you don’t care. Then people don’t take you too seriously.”

He couldn’t help but ask, “Why wouldn’t you want them to take you seriously?”

Bruce’s look was pretty damn predatory, and he’d seen it more than once over the course of the day. “Because then they never expect it when you take them down.”

“Well. Shit.” He blinked.

Bruce gave him a slight smirk then smacked his hand down on his hip. “Come on; let me have your ass.”

He groaned, “How do you have this sort of stamina?”

“It was just you getting off last time,” he so helpfully reminded him; it had been. Bruce had actually been, kind of awesome as a first client. He seemed to be having a good time if they were both having a good time, and if Blake was being tormented just a tiny bit.

He had laughed off Blake’s ‘first time whoring out his body’ jitters and made him feel comfortable enough to get into it, to get hard, and he was pretty fucking fantastic with his hands. He let him prep him and he nearly went cross-eyed from how well he played with his prostate. It honestly felt pretty fantastic to get laid after watching Barsad getting it for over a week and jerking off to it.

He flipped over and let him have his ass, rolled his eyes at the pleased sound the move got. “Yeah, yea—ah! Don’t bite!”

“Not biting.” Bruce scraped his teeth over the curve of his ass, nipped at the skin there. It left a tingling, raw trail, and he snorted, grabbed a pillow and hugged around it a bit, settled in for the ride.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me.”

“Don’t give me a reason to fall asleep.”

He kind of regretted the challenge the second after he said it. Judging by Bruce’s low laugh, he was really going to pay for it.

He really did.

“Fuck, fuck yeah,” he grunted when Bruce finally stopped teasing, stopped making him want to rip him a new one with all of his barbs and teasing and fucking amazing hands and finally just pushed his dick back into him.

“Can’t take the porno star out of you, can they?” Bruce pressed his palm down firmly between his shoulder blades and started to fuck into him again. Viagra. The man HAD to use Viagra. He was sure of it.

“S-shut up!” he gritted out between thrusts. Bruce just laughed, pushed harder and clearly liked the way he wriggled under him. He reached under himself, begrudgingly admitted that he totally wanted to get off again, and if Bruce kept it up this pace his hand was more than enough to make it happen.

“Yeah.” He bit into his lip and rocked back. “Come on, that’s all you’ve got?”

It wasn’t, and Bruce was more than happy to prove it. He cried out and came in his hand with a shudder. Bruce went tight and still over him, clearly finding his own release just fine.

“I’m done,” he warned, still panting as Bruce pulled back and disposed of another condom. “I’m not going to be able to move to work tomorrow if you try anything again.”

“Just toughening you up, kid.”

He groaned and grabbed the glass of water he’d stuck on the bed after they’d taken a break for lunch, finishing it off. Marathon sex. Bruce Wayne didn’t do anything by halves, and he could really use a shower.

“You’re not bad. I’ll spread the word.”

He set the glass down and watched as Bruce dug around for a towel. Bastard was going to steal the shower before him. “Spread the word?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s why Selina wanted me to take you for a test drive, anyway. You’ll have your own clients in no time.”

He stared in confusion. He had no idea why Selina would want to help him like that. She didn’t really seem like the type to go doing people favors. “Why?”

He didn’t want to think about the fact that Bruce Wayne had enough business contacts that he was casual enough with that he could recommend whores to. That was a little much, though, honestly it really shouldn’t have surprised him. Bruce just shrugged slightly and walked into the bathroom.

When he left, and holy Christ, the tip he left was enough to make him recount it a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, Blake finally got his shower and his sore muscles decided for him that that was certainly enough for a first day. He kind of wondered if Barsad was busy; it was around the time he seemed to have some downtime.

“You said he was nice.” He flopped down onto Barsad’s bed beside him. He could ignore the fact that he was naked. He’d seen it all before, and it seemed rude to barge into his room and demand he get dressed. Besides, he looked tired, too. He was just going to hope the sheets he was lying on were mostly clean.

“I said he was pleasant.”

“Ugh, I should have thought of that. All of your clients are snarky jerks.” He winced when Barsad flicked his skull. “Ow.”

“What are you doing in my rooms?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just habit now.” He cleared his throat a little. “Did you want me to go?”

“You could have at least brought me tea.”

“I’m tired, too; I work, too, now! He bought out my entire shift.” He curled up on his side. “And he bit me.”

“Bite him back.”

“He’ll like it.”

“I am aware,” Barsad said flatly. Blake glanced up, though, and could tell he was holding back a slight smirk.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have just barged in, I can go.” He pushed himself up to sit. “I’m just kind of not sure what to do with myself,” he admitted.

Barsad looked at him for a moment then picked up a book from his bedside table. “You don’t have to go.” He was surprised when he handed it to him and he saw that it was the one he’d been working on before. “Though it would not hurt you to find a hobby.”

“I have one, well, not a hobby, really. I coach ball at St. Swithin’s and do some work there.” He thumbed through the book until he found his spot. “I just don’t exactly have the energy to head down there at the moment.”

Barsad made a noise of understanding and picked up another book. It was strangely cozy to spend time in Barsad’s bed, reading beside him without speaking.  He settled in, and it wasn’t long before the words on the page began to blur a bit. He closed his eyes, part of his mind quite certain that he was still awake and reading even while another part of him felt his arms lower and the book lay out across his chest.

“Blake, go to bed if you are so tired.”

“Nn… kay.” That sounded reasonable. When the book was carefully pulled from his hands, he curled up on his side.

“I meant in your own bed,” Barsad chided softly. “You are insufferable.”

He nodded sleepily in agreement then sighed at the feeling of a blanket being tucked over his shoulders.

With the right connections, it didn’t take long for him to set up a regular schedule of clients. Truth be told, he was pretty busy most of the time, and the money coming in was enough to really help out the kids. Most of his clients at the moment were older businessmen; some were assholes, some were nicer. He got over his nerves pretty fast, and learned how to work each one like he’d seen Barsad do.

“How is it that you always end up in my bed?” Barsad complained, pushing at his head. “You are aware that your own can be slept in, as well, I assume?”

“I can go…” He yawned and blinked blearily. He hadn’t really meant to fall asleep. Coming to Barsad’s room after had just sort of become a habit, and he often ended up taking at least a bit of a nap on his bed no matter how much he said he was just coming to visit. He just sort of felt comfortable around Barsad. It was something he hadn’t felt around someone in a while.

He sort of wondered where Bane was. He hadn’t seen him around since before he started working. It seemed weird to ask Barsad about one of his clients, though, so he didn’t.  It didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. He didn’t come by _every_ day, though; sometimes Barsad’s room was clearly occupied, and he’d gone off to find something else to do. He was probably just missing him.

“But you will not. You will say that, and then you will fall asleep reading the same book you have all week.”

“I can’t help that I’m a slow reader.” He scrubbed at his face and hair, actually trying to wake up a bit. “Sorry, do you have a client?”

“No, I was thinking of going out, actually.” Barsad glanced back at him as he pulled on his jacket. “I am judging by your expression that you would like to come with me.”

“Well if you want any company…”

“I wasn’t aware that I had adopted a lost puppy.”

“Fuck you. That’s not even funny after what Bernstein wanted me to do today.” He had been mortified putting on that collar. Fuck if the payout hadn’t been worth it, though.

Barsad laughed sharply at that. “Come along, then. You will buy me a drink as a thank you for listening to you snore.”

“I don’t snore.” But he ran to grab his jacket and a bit of money he’d tucked away, anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

He was glad that Barsad didn’t take them to some wild club. He didn’t really peg him for that sort, but you never knew what someone did to unwind. The place they were in was sort of a dive, but in a pleasant way. There was a bar and some room to dance in, but the music wasn’t blaring so loudly that you couldn’t hear yourself think.

He bought them both a shot and a beer then huffed when he was carded for it. Barsad laughed.

“You’ll get carded until you’re 40. You have one of those faces.”

He groaned. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

They drank a bit and, well, Blake would have been lying if he said he wasn’t keeping an eye out for any nice looking women that might wonder in. It had been a long fucking time since he’d gotten the sort of action he really wanted. Kind of embarrassingly long, actually, but he really just didn’t know how exactly to broach the idea of what he did for a living before, and now it had sort of gotten even more complicated.

Barsad seemed to be having no troubles. A couple of men talked to him, one bought him a drink. Blake wasn’t sure if he should feel offended or not, because it was kind of clear they had come into the bar together. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything of the sort, but that seemed pretty damn forward.

He mentioned it and Barsad laughed, tipping back the last of his mug. “They see you checking out the women coming in, Blake.”

“Christ, is it that obvious?” He didn’t think he was exactly ogling.

“No, but men are quick to pick up on such things if they are interested in something,” Barsad assured him, which was kind of comforting in its own weird way. “Now don’t scare off this one, I think I would like to dance with him.”

That seemed fair. When the next guy came up—tall, olive skinned, quite handsome, objectively speaking—and sat down on the stool beside Barsad, Blake just paid attention to his own drink and privately wished him luck. It didn’t really seem like he needed it, though.

Barsad wasn’t exactly working like he did at the brothel. Well, he was working, but he was working for himself really, flirting easily, a small smile, light laughter. His hand trailed down the other guy’s wrist, touched over his fingertips. He got his dance.

Blake couldn’t help but turn his head a little and glance curiously as Barsad danced with the guy, slow and casual, his hand holding his hip. It was kind of interesting to watch. He didn’t exactly watch the mating rituals of the scruffy male prostitute often, and maybe he could pick up pointers and apply them to women.

Barsad was pretty damn forward. By the end of the song, he had his hand curled in the other man’s hair and was kissing him softly. He shifted on the stool. For some reason Barsad’s kissing always made him feel uncomfortable. He’d only seen him kiss Bane before, and there was just a way the man did it, like he was letting himself be a little gentle, be a little more open than his callused exterior, that tugged at him.

Blake honestly wasn’t much for kissing. Barsad’s rule had made perfect sense to him. There were some directors out there that insisted on kissing. He didn’t like it on the lips. It was way too intimate for him; he hated it, in fact. They could usually be assuaged by some heavy necking, some nuzzling that made him look all soft and new to the game. He’d managed to avoid kissing guys mostly. He wasn’t intimate with guys like that, he just fucked them.

He swallowed a little and watched how Barsad pulled back from the kiss and placed a smaller, lighter one on the corner of the man’s mouth, how his hand stroked down his side before he let him go.

Unbidden, the thought that maybe the idea of wrapping his arms around Barsad and pressing their lips together didn’t really seem all that bad sprang to his mind.

Well. Well, shit. That was a little disconcerting and complicated.

He looked away uncomfortably. When Barsad sat back down, he was typing something into his cell phone, a phone number, Blake assumed.

“What do you tell them?” he couldn’t help but ask when they left the bar.

Barsad didn’t bother to ask what he meant. “I don’t. It never really progresses far enough for me to consider it.”

Well, now he felt like an ass. “Oh; sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one who breaks it off, generally.” Barsad lit up a cigarette and took a drag before he handed it to him as they walked. “It’s easier that way. Not many people want to date a prostitute, at least not the type of people you would want to date.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Videos were the same way. You ever think of giving it up?" Barsad seemed like he was pretty smart, like if he tucked some away, he'd have a chance at getting out, finding a good job somewhere or maybe going to school for something.

Barsad glanced back at him and shrugged, "Perhaps once or twice, but there is no reason to. I make good money, and there is nothing outside of the brothel for me."

"What if there was?"

Barsad considered the question carefully before rolling his shoulders into another casual shrug, "Perhaps."

He sighed, blowing out some smoke. “You don’t get lonely? How do you not get lonely?” He couldn’t help but ask. Maybe it was admitting too much, but, fuck, they were sort of friends now, right?

Barsad glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “I am too busy to get lonely.” He took the cigarette back. “And each time I find myself alone, you sneak into my bed to nap.”

He snorted. “Yeah, sorry. I really don’t mean to fall asleep.”

Barsad made a disbelieving noise. “I will start charging you rent soon.”

They somehow spent the rest of the walk home discussing the logistics and fairness of charging for pillow space in Barsad’s bed. They were laughing lightly and arguing over how much blanket space the charges got you when suddenly Barsad made a joke and he found himself doing something he hadn’t done in a long time.

Smiling.

Not the fake ones he’d been giving customers or the one he’d always practiced in the mirror to put people at ease. He was smiling, really smiling, and it was so strange it almost made his face hurt. Too much alcohol, he decided quickly, and it was gone in a flash. Barsad was looking at him thoughtfully.

“You have a very nice smile, Blake.”

It felt embarrassing for him to have noticed, to have perhaps realized the rarity of them. Barsad was observant though, so it shouldn’t have surprised him. He shrugged his shoulders a little, nearly feeling himself flush but forcing it back.

He was glad when Barsad didn’t say anything else about it.

“So do you want the man’s number when I am finished with him?” he asked instead, clearly changing the subject for Blake’s benefit.

“Oh fuck you.” He rolled his eyes. “Not gay.”

“Are you still holding onto that?”

“I’m not ‘holding onto’ anything, and that’s the problem."

Barsad looked at him for a long moment. “No, I believe the ‘problem’ with you, Blake, is that you are so willing to give your body to everyone that you are scared to give your heart to anyone."

Blake gaped, because fuck if that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black.

Barsad continued, "You have no problem accepting your body’s responses to a male, but the idea of intimacy terrifies you so much that you set your goals too high to ever achieve it."

"Oh, so wanting a woman is too high of a goal for me? Thanks, fucker.” He scowled. “At least I fucking have goals for it. Look at you. You just got done telling me you break off every relationship that you have before it gets serious."

Barsad stamped out his cigarette and flicked it into a nearby trashcan as they came to the steps of the brothel. "I am well aware of my own issues, thank you. Perhaps I do not wish to see you make the same mistakes, to put yourself in a rut that you cannot get out of.”

Oh.

“I, uh—”

“Do not bother with whatever false comfort you are going to attempt to give. I am content as I am. You, however, are needy. Clingy.”

“Fuck you, I’m not ‘clingy’,” he shot back in irritation.

“And yet you have followed me back to my room, again.”

He blinked. He hadn’t meant to. It had just become habit by now. “Look. I know you’re trying to like, be nice, in your own kind of fucked up way,” he nearly snorted at the sour face Barsad made at the accusation, “but you’re not exactly one to talk, ok? And I’m fine. I don’t NEED someone, I just want someone, and she’ll come along eventually.”

“What do you mean, that ‘I am not one to talk’?”

He wanted to bite his tongue. That was definitely not the part that Barsad was supposed to focus on.

“Fuck. Nothing. Just, nothing.” He dropped down into the chair even though he should probably just go to bed. He didn’t want to go to bed, though, and he didn’t want to sit up in bed thinking about how much he wasn’t tired.

“No, please; enlighten me. Clearly you know the ways of the world.”

“You know what? You’re not _that_ much older than me, so you can just fuck off with that attitude anytime.”

“Then don’t behave as a child and act as though you have any notion of things you don’t understand. You’re just a lonely boy.”

“And you’re just a real asshole whenever someone touches a little too close to home with you, aren’t you?” Blake glared. He wasn’t being fooled for one fucking second. He could be observant, too.

Barsad’s eyes narrowed, a flash of anger passing through them before they relaxed suddenly and the corner of his lip quirked up. Blake jumped, hands snapping back to flatten against the wall when Barsad was suddenly straddling his lap, all of his earlier ire seeming to have left his body when he pressed up against John’s.

“Perhaps you need a whore, yourself, Blake.” He brushed against his jawline and the prickle of his beard scraped out a tingly trail there, made him twitch in his pants which should not be happening after a long day at work. “Someone to pretend to care for you.” 

Blake absolutely didn’t shiver when Barsad’s tongue dipped out to wet his lips. “Do you think you can afford me, Blake?”

Now was not a good time to be getting hard. It really wasn’t. He swallowed heavily, willed himself to calm down. He wasn’t going to let Barsad fucking win this. “Is that what you do with Bane? Pretend to care? I’m not buying it. It’s easier for you to pretend not to care.”

“No. It’s easier not to care, period.”

“Sure, and hurt Bane while you’re at it, and yourself.”

That… was apparently too far.

“You know nothing about it, you stupid little shit,” Barsad swore and crushed their mouths together. Their teeth clicked painfully, and he tasted copper and beer. He tasted Barsad, and his hands grabbed onto his stupid fucking slender hips and dug into them, into his jeans, and yanked him tightly against himself.

He grunted when Barsad’s hips shifted, when he was pressing against his crotch so roughly his zipper was biting into his dick in a way that should NOT have made it perk up more in interest. Barsad’s hand went to his hair, roughly grabbed up a fistful of it.

Oh God, was he about to have angry sex? That was new. He’d had a lot of different types of sex, but a rage fuck was definitely not on that list. He bucked up at Barsad, a low moan leaving his mouth at the friction against his cock.

Barsad growled and snapped down on his lower lip, yanking at it, making blood well up and sending a new surge of arousal to pool in his belly. It was lapped at by a wickedly playful tongue for a moment before they both seemed to come to their damn senses. Barsad licked his lips slowly and slid from his lap, clearly refusing to even have the decency to look ruffled or to admit that that was absolutely not what either of them had been expecting.

“That… was very stupid,” he simply observed and dropped down onto the bed, unlacing his boots.

He panted, eyes wide and trying to collect himself. “Really, really stupid,” he agreed quickly, proud when his voice didn’t squeak or break or anything that would make the situation even worse.

“We will not speak of it.”

“Fine by me.” Fuck if it meant something. They had both just been pushing each other’s buttons, and it had made them explode. He stood up and walked out stiffly, trying to ignore how uncomfortably tight his pants had gotten.


	12. Chapter 12

Barsad lay in bed, pressing his fingers lightly to his lips, tracing over the soreness that he felt there. That had been quite foolish, on his part. Blake was, begrudgingly, a friend, and though there were times he and Selina indulged in each other casually, it felt different with Blake, enough for him to break off the kiss and let him go. He had been feeling strange, as of late, anyway. Agreeing to Selina’s favor had left him in a strange situation, where he had been forced to accept that perhaps his working relationship with Bane had gone too far.

It was not like it did not happen with others, but it had not happened with him before. If he was at all intelligent, he would have switched Bane to another like he had initially considered. He was a fool, though. He had convinced himself he could remain professional about things, could carefully back away from Bane so that the man did not notice a sudden shift in treatment.

The intentions never seemed to quite hold up after he began a session. For the first few, he had decided to kiss less, to roll over onto his hands and knees so Bane could enjoy himself. Bane had rimmed him until he was nearly mewling with need and clawing at the bed sheets. He had been too disoriented to protest when he rolled him onto his back to take him, stroked his cheek tenderly as he arched up and spasmed with pleasure for him.

When he had tried to switch tactics, to put Bane onto his back and ride him, make it more impersonal, Bane pulled him down and the wild rocking and twisting of his hips became something slow and sensuous, something that left him breathless and limp against Bane as he stroked his tongue into his mouth at an unhurried pace.

Passive did not work, either. Bane had teased him and told him if he was feeling so tired that perhaps he would like to be kept immobile so that he could relax and let Bane do all of the work.

He still had the rope lines on his skin.

He considered himself a calm man, but he was at his wit’s end, and Blake’s accusations were not helping anything. He had decided to go out with the intention of picking someone up. He had not bothered in a while. He realized he had not done so since he had met Bane, and that in itself was even more worrying. He sighed. The man from the bar had been handsome, but he could not even remember his name to delete it from his phone. He was not what he was looking for, and it was a sick realization that perhaps he was looking for something, after all.

All things were pointing towards an unpleasant path. He would need to truly need to end this complicated relationship with Bane before he became more entrenched in it, before he actually hurt himself.

“So, let me get this right. I bothered to get the kid all of those connections to keep him busy and _away_ from Bane, and now you’re just going to hand him right over?” Selina shook her head. “Not one of your smarter choices.”

He sighed. They were alone in the kitchen, it was late, and he could not sleep. It was an old trouble he had, Selina, as well. It had been how they had initially bonded, slipping into the kitchen during the late hours and sitting at the table to think or to clear their minds.

“I seem to be an idiot when it comes to him.”

Her face softened slightly. “Yeah, but we’ve all done something stupid like that before.”

“Your stupid is at least a billionaire.”

Her lips pursed slightly at that. “Don’t even start with me.”

He could not help but smile slightly. Sometimes, he wished Selina would take up Bruce’s offer, even though he would miss her. It was plain to see they had long ago moved past a professional relationship. He knew she never would, though, and he understood that. She needed to be able to make it on her own. When she left the profession, found her own job on her own terms, though, he suspected they would find one another just fine.

“He said he doesn’t want Blake, only to watch me with him.”

“Well, he will after he watches you with him. Problem solved.”

He shook his head. “I have no plans of fulfilling that request. Things between Blake and I are strained enough.” They hadn’t spoken much since the kiss. Blake hadn’t fallen asleep in his bed again. He found he missed the company.

“Then square yourself away with Blake, and do it. Just make it all about Blake. Bruce said he’s a sweet ride; show Bane how much better off he’d be taking him for a spin himself.”

He flinched inwardly. It was true, though. Blake would be a better choice. Blake was quite firmly adhering to the idea of not having an intimate relationship with guys. It kept both of them safer that way, kept them from making the same mistakes Barsad did.

“I will talk to Blake, I suppose.”

But Blake was waiting for him in his bedroom.

“Hey, sorry, I uh, I just needed to talk to someone, and I sort of figured you’d be back soon.” He was agitated, running his finger repeatedly down the spine of a book.

“Did something go wrong with a client today?” It wasn’t unheard of; one had to be careful. “Tell me what happened.”

He was relieved when Blake shook his head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He sighed. “It’s just… they cut funding on some of the important programs at St. Swithin’s. It means any kids in the program over sixteen are getting kicked.”

Ah. He nodded in understanding. He knew that the place was important to Blake. “I am sorry.”

“It’s just… Jesus. I give so fucking much.” He stared down at the floor. “And it’s like, why even bother, sometimes.”

Barsad paused. It was then that he realized just where all of Blake’s money had been going. He had wondered when Blake hadn’t furnished his room after he had finally started receiving his income. He had questioned in passing if Blake was using the money on a vice, gambling or drugs, but he had seemed steady and reliable enough that he hadn’t put much thought into it.

His hand went to Blake’s shoulder. “You can’t put the failure of an entire system onto your shoulders, Blake.”

Blake threw the book across the room; it cracked loudly against the wall and his jaw was clenched tightly. “Sometimes it feels like I’m not doing a fucking thing, anyway.”

“Blake, how much money do you give them?”

He shrugged. “Everything, minus bills and a little emergency money to put away.”

“Blake,” he shook his head, “that is far too much.”

“Clearly it’s not enough,” Blake argued, rubbing his hands over his face and sounding exhausted. Barsad sighed; he was not good with these things.

He pulled John up off of the chair and pushed him onto the bed. “Lie down.”

“Don’t have the money to pay you,” Blake mumbled out sarcastically, but he sighed when his head hit the pillow.

“I suppose I will donate my pillow for free tonight, for the children.”

That got a tired chuckle. “That’s terrible, perv.”

He lay down beside him and ran a hand through his hair. “You are giving too much, Blake. You’re giving your body, your time, all of your money. You are going to burn out eventually and have nothing else to give.”

“Then I better keep it up while I can,” Blake shot back, then winced when Barsad smacked his head. “Ah, hey, don’t, I’m tired,” was said petulantly.

“If you give less now, you’ll have more to give later.”

“That doesn’t make sense, and I can’t; they need me. No one else gets it like I do.”

“Why is that?”

John went tight-lipped, rolled over, and Barsad understood, wrapped an arm around him after a moment.

“You grew up there.”

“Yeah.”

He sighed, rubbed his hand across his stomach, certainly not a motion he was used to, but it came instinctively. “It’s still too much to give. You need to put something away for yourself.”

“I don’t really need anything.”

Barsad plucked a little at his threadbare shirt. “You’re living on bare bones.  Sacrificing everything you are will not fix the system, Blake.”

“It helps, though.”

“You are very stubborn.”

Blake snorted. “So you noticed.”

He didn’t end up asking Blake about Bane that night. Clearly it wasn’t the right time, and when Blake fell asleep he shifted back, settled against him more and sighed. Barsad wondered if he should just get another pillow, seeing as how his bed was so rarely empty anymore. For now, he settled on rolling Blake back onto his back and using his shoulder.

For the children.

____________________

Bane kissed wetly down Barsad’s shoulder, smiling at the way he could feel his heavy pants as he trailed his lips down his spine, nuzzled playfully when he curved up to meet him.

They had just finished a very enjoyable session, something he had been looking forward to after a long day. When the pain in his body flared up from the rain or cold, he found the best treatment for it was to dote on someone else, be it making Barsad shudder under him or spending time with Talia, cooking together or sparring. It gave him something else to focus on other than the aches in his body.

He laughed when biting along the curve of Barsad’s ass got him a backwards warning swat.

“Your session is most certainly up.”

He reached to squeeze his fingers. “Do you have another client?”

“No, but it has been a busy day, and I am only human.”

He relented and pressed one last kiss there, patting and guiding him onto his back. “I would not want to be the death of you.”

“I have the feeling you shall be the death of me no matter what,” Barsad murmured, sliding a hand behind his head.

Bane held onto his ankle, rubbed against the bone, testing if he would be rebuffed. When he wasn’t shooed off, he began to kneed his thumbs firmly into the soul of Barsad’s foot. He smiled when Barsad closed his eyes and sighed.

“Is it bad today?” Barsad asked finally, sounding relaxed. That made him pause.

“You can tell?”

Barsad hummed. “You rub my feet when it is very bad.”

“It is worse than usual; the rain makes it flare up at times.”

He demurred when Barsad tried to get him to lie down.

“I will rub your back, make you feel better.”

“You already have,” he assured him, rubbing down his calves. “Let me touch you a bit more? I will stop bothering you, then.”

“I doubt it.” Barsad smirked but let him rub up to his knees, his body relaxing into the bed more. Bane brushed over a scab on his knee, a slight bruise on his thigh that he might almost have been jealous of if he wasn’t fairly certain it was his own.

He had been worried that he had truly upset Barsad when he had asked about Blake several weeks ago. Their sessions had seemed a bit more strained, after. He had tried to let his actions speak louder than his words after that, showing Barsad just how much he enjoyed his body, enjoyed him. It seemed his faux pas had been forgiven, now. It had been a foolish thing to ask to begin with, bad etiquette.

He had not meant to offend Barsad at all, it was merely that he enjoyed seeing Blake and Barsad bantering, had thought he might also enjoy seeing their bodies together. He had also not been blind to how Barsad looked at Blake at times, how he smirked at his jokes.

Perhaps it was foolish to try to play matchmaker to a man whose body you paid for.

But then, he was often quite foolish when it came to Barsad.


	13. Chapter 13

“Have you fallen asleep on me?” Bane teased. Barsad hissed and kicked at him in annoyance when he tickled the underside of his knee.

A quick grab of his ankle and a stroke to the heel of his foot had him beating his fists against his arm and making soft, breathless noises. He found himself unable to resist pulling him into his arms, quieting him by stealing away some kisses.

Barsad moaned softly when he returned them, warred with his tongue for a moment before he pushed away, clicking his tongue in reproval.

“A good attempt to trick me into a second round, but I am tired.”

“It was certainly worth a try.”

Barsad ran his fingers over his scalp thoughtfully. “If you are still feeling amorous, you should go see Blake.”

That made him pause, having thought that it was something put to rest. “Barsad…”

“I truly don’t mind. It is business, and Blake could use the money.” Barsad shrugged slightly, and Bane could feel how the muscles in his back grew tense. He wondered if Barsad worried about losing his business. He certainly had no plans of that, though.

He shook his head. “That was truly not what I had in mind, Barsad.” He debated for a moment and chose to be blunt, “I thought you might enjoy him.”

Barsad lowered his eyes in confusion then laughed suddenly. “Did you truly try to buy a whore for your whore?”

Bane laid him back down, pressing their foreheads together and kissing him playfully. “It was not exactly done with the most selfless of intentions… I did say that I thought you would look very beautiful together.”

“Truly, you are a strange man.”

“I am certain that it is considered quite rude to talk to your clients that way.”

Barsad grinned wickedly. “It is. I could be fired.”

“When really you should be spanked.”

“You would never get me over your knee. I am as slippery as an eel.”  He squirmed back onto the bed, grabbing his pack of cigarettes. “May I ask something of you?”

He nodded, curious.

“I was wondering… if you would consider donating some of your time to a boy’s home that John works with.” He looked away, pausing to light his cigarette. “You are probably too busy.”

He considered it a moment, “I would be willing to help… I am just not certain I would do well with the children.”

Barsad had never asked him for such a thing, and he wished to help, but the idea made him uncomfortable. Barsad had given him confidence, but he still did not prefer to go out much; the people he trained were almost always regulars and thus never questioned his scarf, and he could see well enough the looks of curiosity it received elsewhere, especially when the weather was warmer. He couldn’t help but think of curious, grabbing little hands and it made his stomach turn slightly.

“You did beautifully with Talia.”

“Flattering me will not convince me,” he pointed out, but he smiled at the thought of her. “What would I do? I suppose I am a capable pair of hands.”

“You are more than that. Children in such places need good ways to express themselves, to expend energy. I was thinking perhaps you could do a boxing class there.”

“You do realize that you want me to teach orphans to punch one another?”

____________________

Barsad laughed, but he was rather proud of his plan. It had many advantages. It gave Blake someone else to come to help out at the boy’s home, taking some burden from him. It gave the children a new outlet, and it made Blake warm up to Bane even further, making the idea of him transferring Bane over to Blake a little more likely, and then Blake might have someone who would look after him well. Blake could use such a thing, even if it was client-related; Barsad certainly couldn’t be expected to do it. He was not good at such things, and Blake would realize that soon enough and stop slipping into his bed for comfort.

“That is not the same, at all. It is something to give them discipline.”

Bane was clearly thinking about it. He understood he was asking him to do something outside of his comfort zone. He felt slightly guilty that he suspected that Bane might not even consider such a thing if someone else asked.

“Very well. I will do it.”

“Thank you.”

“Under one condition.”

Barsad chuckled. “That is fair; name it.” He wondered what sort of prize Bane would playfully take for his contribution.

“I need an assistant.”

That was not what he had had in mind. He took a drag from his cigarette and flicked some ash into the tray. “Surely John can assist, or one of the older children.”

“I cannot simply punch a young boy in the face… or a child.”

Barsad chuckled but shook his head. “I would be a terrible assistant.”

“And I am certain they will find me to be a terrible teacher, but we are doing this for your friend, aren’t we?”

He wondered exactly how it was that he got caught up in his own trap.

And just when he began to agree with the assessment of Blake as his friend.

____________________

John was surprised at Barsad’s offer when he told him the idea and that he would help.

“Why? I mean, not that it wouldn’t be great for them, but why help them out?”

“Because they need help, and, in exchange, you are going to put away 20% of your weekly earnings for yourself; 10% in the bank, 10% to actually live.”

That led to some arguing, but eventually he won Blake over to his side.

It turned out that, between the two of them, the first class was not a complete disaster.

The children seemed excited over the prospects of it, and even though Bane was asked about his scarf perhaps half a dozen times in the first ten minutes, it was let go once the actual lesson began.

It felt good to spar with Bane once more; he had enjoyed their week at the gym. He had even considered Talia's pressure to join it, but it would have hardly been professional and so he kept to his own gym.

As they were cleaning up, John walked back into the small gym area to join them.

"Hey, from what I hear in the halls, everyone had a great time; they're looking forward to the next one." He watched then pack away a few items. "So, uhm, thank you."

"You are welcome, Blake," Bane said as he lifted his bag to his shoulder. "Perhaps you should join the class."

"Yeah, I'd never hear the end of that from the kids, you two kicking my ass non-stop."

"We would be careful with you," Bane promised.

Barsad watched the conversation out of the corner of his eye, satisfied when it went well as they finished clean up, and staying out of it until the end. "We should get something to eat before going home. Perhaps you would care to join us, Bane?"

Bane paused for a moment and considered it before shaking his head. "I do not prefer to eat out."

It took Barsad a moment to realize; he was so used to seeing him without his scarf that he did not think about how it might make his daily behaviors different. "Come back with us and eat, then," he found himself saying. Though the plan had been to slip off early while they were eating together, he didn't want to leave Bane on that note.

They ended up in his room, eating take-away and talking. It became the tradition for several weeks, for them to go teach lessons and for Bane to come eat with them after. It meant Bane ended up at the brothel roughly three times a week, though he was only there for sex for one. It became familiar, friendly, reminding him of Blake's week of tailing him.

Barsad didn't realize how dangerous a thing that was until a few weeks in. It was too familiar, too comfortable. When Bane said something entertaining, he forgot, forgot that it wasn't an appointment and without thinking he pressed a kiss to his lips as he reached to snatch a dumpling from his plate.

He didn't realize at first, why Bane froze, simply thought for a moment that he was having a moment of shyness as they still came to him at times. He licked over his bottom lip, tasting soy and sesame, and then he understood exactly what he was doing and drew back. He did not look at him, nearly excused himself to the bathroom, but knew that would make the breach that much more obvious.

Perhaps a change in subject was no better, but it was to take the light off of him. He looked over at Blake, who had either somehow managed to miss his faux pas or was politely ignoring it while he slurped up some noodles, a bit of sauce flicked up to catch his cheek, and Barsad shook his head, reached to wipe it with his thumb.

"I keep forgetting to mention that Bane would like to buy your services, Blake."

He thwacked his hand roughly over Blake's back when his choked on his bite of food, this was becoming a habit for them, apparently.

"Yeah, no thanks. I mean, no offence, Bane," he corrected quickly. "You're, actually you're a really nice guy, and from what I've seen a great client, but no."

Barsad was surprised at that. It didn't make much sense for Blake to turn the offer down, knowing how good of a client Bane was. Then he saw how his eyes flicked over towards his and he set his lips in a thin line in annoyance. Blake was trying stupidly to not 'get between' Bane and himself. His idea of what he thought was going on between the two of them really needed to be put to an end.

Bane looked surprised, uncertain that the entire thing was being brought up. When he opened his mouth to speak, Barsad decided to beat him to it. "That is not what was meant, actually. He would like to buy your services, but he is more interested in watching you with someone else."

"You," Blake realized immediately." Wait," he stopped and his eyes widened. "You?"

"Not if it would make you uncomfortable," Bane hastened to add. He didn't look at them, and Barsad felt a flash of guilt for making him feel uncomfortable. Still, the subject had needed to be broached one way or another.

"I don't..." Blake looked at him uncertainly, and Barsad put a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"It would simply be business, Blake. Actually, perhaps you would feel more comfortable with it, seeing as you are more used to being watched by directors."

Blake's eyes narrowed and he shrugged off his hand. "Ha, funny. Fine, alright." He sat up more and Barsad had been well aware that needling him would be more likely to get Blake to go along with the idea than gentle coaxing. "When do you want to?"

"Only if you are willing," Bane urged, but Barsad could see the curiosity in his eyes, the slight spark of desire. He didn't let it upset him.

"He is willing. We can plan it for your next appointment."


	14. Chapter 14

Blake felt like he should write a list of rules down if he was going to go through with this. No eye contact, no saying his name or expecting him to say his in return, and definitely, absolutely, no kissing. Then he thought of just how stupid he would feel handing said list over to Barsad, and quickly vetoed the idea.  
  
It was just one time. It wasn't really a big deal, and yeah, Barsad was an asshole for saying so, but it wasn't like he wasn't exactly used to being watched. He'd even had a sort-of friend or two in the business that he'd ended up getting fucked by, and it hadn't been too big of a deal.  
  
He hadn't ever thought that those guys looked nice when they kissed, though, hadn't fallen asleep in their beds on a semi-regular basis, and he certainly hadn't shared an angry kiss with them that he'd felt on his lips for hours after.  
  
It still wasn't a big deal.  
  
So when he finished with a client or two that day, he took a nap, cleaned up, and went to Barsad's room. That also wasn't a big deal. He was there almost every day. So he didn't hesitate, didn't bother to knock, just went in.  
  
No big deal, at all.  
  
Bane was already there, his scarf off and chatting with Barsad. They greeted him like they always did now when he stopped off, and Bane checked to make sure he still was ok with it. It was kind of sweet. He could admit to himself, in the farthest reaches of his mind, anyway, that he really wouldn't mind having Bane as a client. Bane was kind, caring, and sweet; the only reason he wouldn't take up an offer from him was because of Barsad.  
  
They didn't jump into it, and Blake was glad for that. He felt fucking jumpy and hated it. He hadn't felt this wound up his first day on the job at the brothel, or even in front of the camera. Bane asked about his day and John snorted.  
  
"God, you wouldn't believe it if I told you."  
  
"Oh? I heard the commissioner paid you a visit this morning." Barsad smirked and, well, fuck him for knowing that.  
  
"Yeah, so?" He felt his ears heat up a little. It wasn't his fault he had a young face. It really wasn't, and so what if sometimes that drew out kinks in people that they wanted him to play around with him with? It was just part of the job.  
  
Barsad laughed softly and reached to touch his ear lightly. "Did you have fun with daddy?"  
  
"Oh, FUCK you," he swore and smacked his hand away, the red rushing from his ears to his cheek and neck. "How the fuck do you know about that?"  
  
"You're hardly the first. He's a good client," was all Barsad responded with, and Blake had to wonder if Barsad had ever gotten a visit. He glanced up at Bane and he wasn't laughing outwardly, but his eyes had an amused shine to them. He muttered and shrunk down a bit, fucking hating when he couldn't shake off the sense of embarrassment inside.  
  
Barsad looked at him closer and he hated it a little when his expression softened slightly. It wasn't pity, but sympathy had always been too damn close to it for comfort for Blake. He patted a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"He put me over his knee on more than one occasion," Barsad confided, and Blake forgot his embarrassment, looked at Barsad and bit back a chuckle at the amused and unashamed look in his eyes.  
  
"You have never let me put you over my knee," Bane pointed out, looking nearly put out by the knowledge.  
  
"And I never will," Barsad promised, "but the commissioner has very powerful methods of persuasion and specific needs. You certainly don't need to spank me."  
  
"Need? No, but the idea certainly has its appeal."  
  
Blake relaxed as they argued. It was strange to realize that their playful bickering had become something kind of comforting and regular in his life. Man, it was more than kind of fucked up, the more he thought about it. He was just going to not think about it.  
  
"You're not fucking spanking me, just so you don't get any ideas," he finally said. He was well rested, but his ass still stung a bit from that morning. Beyond that, just no. He definitely didn't want to give Barsad that to hang over his head, even if he was starting to suspect Barsad never would, that the man just sort of rolled with whatever kinks others had and didn't judge them for them.  
  
Barsad didn't seem too upset over the notion; he merely slid closer to Blake on the bed where they were seated together, Bane sitting in the chair not far from it.  
  
"And what shall I do to you, then?" he nearly purred it against Blake's ear, his hand moving to his arm and rubbing up it slowly. "What would you like?"  
  
He took a slow breath to steady the pounding in his chest. "Me? Why ask me? I'm not the one paying." He looked over at Bane who was leaning back in his chair now, watching them intently, like he was studying something that intrigued him, a piece of art that he was working to interpret.  
  
Bane seemed to measure his question carefully, mulling it over for a moment. "I would like to see you kiss first, to take your time."  
  
Blake's stomach fluttered nervously and he stamped it down forcefully. So much for never kiss a client. But Blake wasn't a client, was he, and he knew that Barsad broke his own rules for Bane more often than Blake could count.

His head tilted to the side when Barsad's lips found his ear and brushed over it. "I think we can do that."  
  
Blake recognized his voice. It was Barsad's client voice, so low and raspy, barely a mummer, and a promise that he would do things to you that you would remember until your dying days. His hand cupped his cheek and pulled to turn his head. There was a trace of a smirk on his lips that meant Barsad was being all business.  
  
The kiss was like the one they shared in a moment of rage, biting, rough. His mouth opened for it and he gripped the bed when Barsad's tongue slipped between his lips, tasted him without a second’s hesitation. He hurried to reciprocate, placed a hand onto his shoulder to grip the fabric on his shirt and leaned towards him.  
  
"Stop," Bane ordered firmly, and Blake blinked in surprised.

Barsad pulled away, sounding mildly annoyed.  "What?"  
  
"Not like that; gently."  
  
That was different. Barsad nearly made a face, but his relaxed expression didn't change. "I am not a gentle person, Bane."  
  
"Perhaps you should switch positions, then," Bane said mildly in a tone that didn't seem like a provocation, which, with them, meant that that was exactly what it was. Barsad lowered his eyes for a moment then gave a nearly imperceptible shrug of his shoulders.  
  
"Very well; gently."  
  
So it began with instructions, and it didn't stop. It wasn't like with a director, though, it wasn't about what would look the best on film. It was about what would feel the best for them. Barsad's kiss turned light, the barest of brushes over his lips. It made them tingle, and he let him kiss, made himself pliant. He sighed and relaxed against the cool sheets when Bane told him to lie back. It had been a long time since a kiss had felt intimate, disarming; he hated it as much as he felt himself reacting to it.  
  
Bane watched them, only critiquing when they tried to speed up, when John's body became too tight or Barsad began to bite.  
  
"Relax, you have all night."  
  
John didn't know how he was expected to make it through the night when Barsad was being instructed to strip him slowly, to pet every bit of skin he exposed as he went. His breath was already catching in his throat by the time he was unbuttoning Barsad's jeans, helping him roll them down as he crowded over him, nuzzled his neck and sighed when Blake couldn't resist stroking over his hips, running his thumb against the dip of his hipbone.  
  
"Kiss over his nipples, tease them; don't stop until he is squirming."  
  
It didn't take long for Blake to squirm, to grip the sheet under him and arch.  
  
"Pet his thighs. Don't touch his cock, not yet, just let him imagine how it will feel when you finally do."  
  
Oh God, did he have to say it like that? Now he WAS imagining it, those strong, graceful fingers stroking his dick, teasing all of the right spots, trailing down and rubbing along his balls. He was so close, petting the crease of his thigh, and John couldn't resist slowly arching his hips upward, knowing it was ridiculous, knowing he was so fucking hard and wanting more.  
  
"You sound beautiful, Blake."  
  
He wasn't sure on Bane's definition of beautiful when all that was coming out of his throat were deep moans and breathy pants. He finally let go of the sheets when Bane had Barsad let go of him, instructing him to pour some lubricant into his palm while Barsad straddled his hips. His eyes were more lidded than usual, and his face looked softer, more playful, like all of Bane's instructions and gentle nudges had chipped away at the shell he kept around himself.  
  
He hadn't yet looked at Bane, kind of didn't want to. His voice was like a guiding hum in their ears, like it had cast some sort of spell on them, and he was almost afraid to break it by looking over. He did hear the sound of a zipper, though, and didn't need to question why.  
  
"Stroke both of you together, Blake."  
  
Barsad's head dropped back when he did it and Blake watched, mesmerized by the arc of his throat, the way his hips jerked forward and thrust him into his slippery grip. Blake shuddered at the wet slide of Barsad's cock against his own, rubbing and squeezing them both together until he could barely stop himself even when Bane gave the order.  
  
"That's enough. Are you ready, Barsad?"  
  
Barsad’s eyes were closed. He nodded quickly and took Blake's hand, sliding it between his legs. He braced his other arm against the bed as he leaned forward to mouth against Blake's ear, nibble at his lobe.  
  
"Get me ready," Barsad whispered and guided John's fingers until they were sliding wetly across his hole.  
  
That startled him, poked that the protective shell they were in, but even it wasn't enough to break it. He didn't stammer, he fucking refused to, but he did take a startled breath when Barsad helped him slide a pair of his fingers slowly into him. He could feel his heady sigh against his ear, the hot, tight grip around his digits.  
  
"We're... like this?" He tried not to sound hesitant, but it must have failed because Barsad laughed softly against his ear, kissing it.

"Blake, have you never once been the one on top?"  
  
"Shut up. Just shut up," he muttered softly.  
  
"It's ok, you'll like it," Barsad promised and whispered for him to add another finger, dug his nails into his chest when he found the sensitive cluster of nerves in him and couldn't resist wiggling his fingers against it curiously. He liked it, how Barsad's breathing became shallow pants against his ear, how his cock rubbed wetly against his stomach, smearing a sticky trail of precome, and the heat pooling in his belly when his own cock rubbed against flushed skin, when Barsad rolled a condom onto him and raised himself up on his thighs, reached between them and guided Blake to nudge against him.  
  
"Slowly. So slowly that it makes you ache for it."  
  
Barsad was slow, too slow. John nearly bit his tongue at the sensual torture of being slowly taken in by him, how hot he was inside, how tight. His fingers scrabbled along Barsad's back and he bit his lip.  
  
"Open your mouth, Blake; don't shy away."  
  
His mouth dropped open and he let out a soft cry when Barsad was seated fully on him, so deep, and all that could be heard in the room were heavy breaths and the soft sound of skin stroking skin.  
  
"Move."  
  
Barsad looked almost dazed when he began to slowly rock his hips, rising so slowly that each pull and push into him was a luxurious, slow drag that grated against every nerve in Blake's body. He choked on Barsad's name, felt it trying to bubble out from between his lips, anyway. Barsad shushed him quietly, because by then they'd both realized what Bane, whether it was his intention or not, had tricked them into doing. They weren't just fucking, they were practically making love, and maybe Barsad had felt something like that before, maybe he felt it with Bane even if he couldn't admit it, but Blake sure as hell hadn't, and it was overwhelming and he knew they were in too deep and too stubborn to stop it from continuing.   
  
Maybe it felt too good for either of them to want to stop.   
  
Bane didn't have to tell Barsad to nuzzle John's throat while he rolled his hips, to place light kisses there and tell him how good he felt inside. He didn't need to tell Blake to wrap his arms around Barsad and pull him down, to roll with him until he was settled under him on the bed, his mouth so pliant and receptive when Blake finally kissed it, actually leaned forward and wanted to kiss him, sighed when Barsad returned it, sucked at his bottom lip.  
  
His orgasm didn't hit him like a freight train, didn't feel like it was punched out of him like it had before from some intense fucks on camera or off. Instead, it felt like it pulsed out of him slowly, unhurriedly, and when it did, he could feel it like waves of steady pleasure in his body. His toes curled at the sensations running through him, and his fingers clenched as he rode that intense wave, breathless.  
  
He knew Barsad felt it, too, when his legs were at his sides, his fingers digging into his shoulders as John reached between them to find his cock, gave it steady, leisurely strokes until Barsad's pleasure had him making a soft sound in the back of his throat as Blake kissed him. His own orgasm made his body tremble under John’s, and he stroked him through it, barely held himself up even though he felt boneless, like he was floating.  
  
It was hazy after that. He'd expected jokes or snark before all of it started, that they'd go back to just chatting, after. He felt like he couldn't move, though; felt a warm cloth against his belly finally, cleaning him up as he resettled and rested his head against Barsad's chest.  
  
"You were both very beautiful."  
  
Barsad made a gruff sound, but it didn't sound as annoyed as usual. He sounded relaxed, like he got when Bane was done with him.  
  
"You have him half asleep on me."  
  
"He looks like he could use the rest; you, as well. Thank you for indulging me."  
  
"Why did you want it like that?" Blake mumbled when he felt the brush of a hand in his hair, the familiar warmth of one of Barsad's blankets tucked around his shoulder.  
  
"Because that is what I thought would look the nicest. I was right; thank you."


	15. Chapter 15

Bane couldn't resist running his fingers through Blake's hair a bit as he drifted off into a well-deserved rest.  
  
"If your plan was to get him to fall asleep in my arms, you could have done it at less expense to yourself," Barsad said. His voice was softer to not wake Blake, and Bane leaned in, stole a kiss he wasn't sure he had a right to take since this session had not been for him, but it was given.  
  
"You like him." He ran his fingers through his beard, watched as Barsad's eyes narrowed. Bane knew he would take it as an accusation, not an observation.   
  
Barsad tried to be so callous, so uncaring, but it did not fool him. He had seen easily during the time they ran classes together how Barsad treated Blake; the soft laughter, the gruff gone and replaced with playful teases. Blake certainly took all of it in, needed someone to give him the attention. They were a good fit. He hoped maybe this would help them realize that, and perhaps get rid of some of the pent-up sexual tension between them, because it had been quite thick in the air whether or not either of them realized it.  
  
"We are friends," Barsad said firmly, and even that seemed to be hard for him to admit, "not something else you are perceiving."  
  
Bane nearly let it go, and perhaps he would have before, but his time with Barsad had taught him to be more forward with him. He felt the bed dip below him as he sat, placed a hand onto his wrist. "And could we not also perhaps call ourselves friends?"  
  
Barsad watched him a moment, looked down at his wrist. "Yes. Yes, Bane," he replied quietly, "we are friends."  
  
He smiled slightly at that, pulling Barsad's hand up to kiss the back of it and wished, not for the first time, that he had met Barsad another way, on the streets, in a shop, in the gym, somewhere where he would have been able to get to know him, maybe even feel a spark between them, something to nurture and grow. He could not fool himself, though. He knew that he would never have approached Barsad before, the man was far too beautiful for him to have another way.  
  
"Then perhaps, as a friend, you could take my advice in this? That I think you would go very well together."  
  
Barsad snorted, pushed at his mouth. "He won't even accept that he is certainly not straight."  
  
He rumbled with laughter. "I am certain that you could help him accept otherwise."  
  
"Why are you so intent on this idea?"  
  
"Because you are lonely," he patted his shoulder and stood, wrapping his scarf around his face slowly, "and I wish you only happiness; would you consider it?"  
  
"Happiness is a ridiculous, fleeting notion." Barsad waved his hand dismissively.  
  
"Then find it and hold onto it where you can, my friend," Bane returned and watched as Barsad's hand found its way to Blake's hair.

____________________

  
His friend. It was a strange admittance between both of them.  
  
He watched Bane leave. He was entirely uncertain how it had come to this; Blake pillowed against him, his breathing softly fanning over his chest. Bane was supposed to have left enamored with Blake, request him, and Barsad would encourage.  
  
When he shifted, Blake stirred, lifted his head a little and squinted at him, clearly not entirely awake. His voice was rough with sleep, "Hey, m'sorry; want me to go?"  
  
Perhaps Bane knew Barsad more than he would have liked, saw more of him than he ever wanted anyone else to see. If he saw how he treated Blake, when he had not been fully aware he was doing it, how much could Bane see when it came to him?   
  
He was lonely.  
  
"Just go back to sleep."  
  
Blake was skittish the next morning. Barsad supposed it was to be expected. He hadn't made up his mind, yet, whether he should pursue Blake. It seemed like a ridiculous idea, and yet it was like Bane had planted a seed into his brain, something that was making him look at Blake differently.  
  
Besides, if he was busy pursuing Blake, maybe his head would finally be clear of things it wanted but could not have. Blake was much more obtainable.  
  
He dressed and watched as Blake mumbled sleepily and wouldn't meet his eyes, tugged on his jeans as he sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
And perhaps he could be fun. Shyness had always been his downfall.  
  
Barsad walked back over to the bed and cupped his chin, felt him freeze. "You don't have to be embarrassed about last night, Blake."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
Barsad hummed slightly in amusement and Blake ducked when he tousled his hair. "Come make me breakfast."  
  
"You can make your own fucking eggs."  
  
"You make them better."  
  
"Fine."  
  
Barsad didn't miss the way Blake straightened a little at the compliment. This could be fun indeed.  
  
Anything that would take his mind off of things he couldn't have.   
  
Blake kept quiet while he cooked, until Selina came in and demanded she make him some eggs, also.  
  
"Sunny side up, and if you break the yolks just forget it," she said as she sat down and placed her feet in Barsad's lap, pursing her lips when he shoved them right back off. "So it sounded like you two had fun last night."  
  
Blake turned quickly from the stove to stare at her. "How did you know—"  
  
She laughed, "Barsad's room is close enough that I'm always getting an earful."  
  
"Yeah, well, keep your damn ears to yourself," Blake muttered, poking at the eggs with a spatula. Selina merely smiled and tilted her head questioningly at Barsad. He in turn merely sipped his tea. When Blake left for an early appointment, she nearly pounced on him.  
  
"Spill it."  
  
"I will spill it right on your lap if you do not get off of me." He held his cup out threateningly.  
  
She laughed throatily and ran nails lightly through his beard. "Come on, now."  
  
"It did not go as I expected."  
  
"Bane not go for it?"  
  
"He wants..." He paused, realizing just how ridiculous the entire thing had become. "I think, instead of becoming Blake's client, he wants me to date him."  
  
Her laughter was certainly not appreciated in the matter. He scowled and sipped his drink and she stopped and looked at him again.  
  
"Wait, are you really thinking about it?"  
  
"It's not an entirely unappealing idea."  
  
"Well no, I mean, I've seen the kid's ass, but you don't really date. You're going to start just because Bane says you should?"  
  
He didn't answer her, felt an uneasiness settle in his stomach, and looked down into his mug.  
  
"Oh, honey, you've got it bad." She pressed her lips to his cheek. "Just be careful, ok? And be good to Blake, he's a sweet kid."  
  
"I didn't say that I was going to."  
  
She smiled and patted his cheek. "Maybe he's right. It could keep your mind off of things. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a threesome to get to."  
  
He shook his head and watched her saunter off.  
  
He took Blake out that night to the bar. Neither of them tried to pick anyone up that time. Blake was quiet at first until a few drinks loosened his tongue, then they were able to talk like before. Barsad watched as he relaxed and leaned against the bar, smiled a little when he got so animated over talking about St. Swithin’s, the different projects being worked on there. Barsad found himself talking about boxing.  
  
"I'd needed to find a way to defend myself," he said simply when Blake asked why he started.  
  
"Rough neighborhood?" Blake asked, clearly understanding, and Barsad nodded.  
  
"I was small, different, and there were many who did not favor that. There was a man, he saw me getting harassed more than once and taught me the basics."  
  
"Sounds like a good guy."  
  
Barsad snorted softly and took a drink before answering. "He was hoping to get his cock sucked by a sixteen year old boy while his wife was away."  
  
"Sounds like an asshole," Blake quickly corrected, shaking his head. "What'd you do?"  
  
"I learned how to give a blowjob." He ignored Blake's startled look. "Nothing in life is given without expecting something in return." It was something he had learned young, and had found to be true throughout his years. He had learned something from Samuel, and in exchange he had given something back.  
  
"That's…" Blake sighed a little and shook his head, "I wish I could say that's not true."  
  
"I'm sure you've seen too much of the world to disagree," Barsad acknowledged. He didn't presume to understand Blake's early life. Growing up in a boy’s home was certainly not something anyone would choose as a childhood.  
  
"Not too much of the world, but I've barely seen the world and I've seen enough of it." Blake sounded disgusted when he set down his drink.  
  
"If you've seen a little of it, you've seen it all," Barsad agreed and considered him, the tight line of his mouth as he watched the people dancing in the bar, laughing, in the crowd but not a part of it.  
  
"Come dance with me, John." His fingers brushed against the back of his wrist lightly, making him look up in surprise at the touch, the use of his first name. "Come on, don't be shy."  
  
He looked unsure then made a slight face. "Have I really ever struck you as shy?"  
  
"No; usually you are refreshingly bold. It is only when you are nervous," Barsad answered honestly, "only when you are getting attention that you like but are not sure you want."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Just come dance." He circled his hand around his wrist and pulled him lightly until he followed. Barsad held back a chuckle when it was clear Blake didn't dance often, his feet shuffling uncertainly.  
  
"Just let me." He draped his hands over his shoulders, stroked slightly against his back as he led them in a slow sway. Blake swallowed and Barsad watched as his eyes flicked around the room. "It really bothers you, doesn't it? The thought of being intimate with another man."  
  
"Yeah, right," Blake snorted softly, relaxing a little, and as if to prove his point letting his hands wrap around Barsad's waist. "It's kind of how I earn a living."  
  
"Not fucking;" Barsad pressed in closer, listened to the subtle change in Blake's breathing, "intimacy."  
  
"You're one to talk," Blake muttered softly. His fingers flexed restlessly against Barsad's sides when Barsad leaned in, brushed their cheeks together.  
  
"I enjoyed last night," he leaned in and whispered it to his ear, smiled against it when Blake went still. "I think you enjoyed it, too."  
  
"I," He paused, clearly a little flustered. "You felt good. Of course you did."  
  
He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his ear, let his lips brush against it before he pulled back, studied his expression, the uncertainty, the flush that was spreading across his cheeks. He looked very sweet. He leaned in again, to kiss him, but was pushed away, certainly not what he was expecting. It wasn't rough, but it was forceful, unnerved. Blake walked back to the bar quickly and took his coat.  
  
"I'm going to head back," he said stiffly and out the door he went before Barsad could say another word.   
  
He supposed he should not have been surprised; between the night before and then, Blake had to be feeling unsettled. When he went to sleep that night, Blake did not end up coming in for a 'nap,' and he found he missed the extra warmth in his bed. He didn't see him again, was clearly being avoided, until the next boxing lesson for the children, and even then he showed up towards the end only to put equipment away, turning down the offer of dinner, saying he was going to do some more work around the grounds.  
  
Bane had insisted on helping, but Barsad had an appointment with Kojo, and so he left them behind.


	16. Chapter 16

Bane tilted his head in consideration, noting how Blake watched Barsad leave, how the tension in his shoulders relaxed in his absence.  
  
"Is something troubling you, Blake?"  
  
"What? No, it's nothing." Blake shook his head. "Come on, I told the father I'd help set up the eating area for their next event.”  
  
Bane helped him shift around tables and chairs, not minding a bit of manual labor as a cool down from the sparring he'd done in demonstration with Barsad. He had not had a chance to ask Barsad about if he had decided to consider pursuing Blake, but from the looks of things, if he had, it was not going well. He asked John different questions about St. Swithin’s as they worked, watched as he grew a bit more animated over talking about the kids, casting glancing around the room with his eyes looking more distance.  
  
It was a sudden but perhaps not shocking realization that this was the closest place John had to a home.  
  
"You are very good to this place, Blake."  
  
"Yeah," he shrugged a little, helping to shift a table to the center of the room, "the kids need someone to look after them."  
  
"And you need someone to look after you," he observed quietly, quirking an eyebrow at how the tension went right back into John's body.  
  
"I look after myself just fine. Always have," he insisted, scraping some chairs across the floor. "Not sure what the sudden interest in me is, but everyone can just fuck off." He shoved the chair a bit too hard into the table, filling the air with a harsh metallic scrape.  
  
"You do not like the sudden interest?" He couldn't help but question, curious about why Blake would be brushing off an advance from Barsad when it was clear there was something between them.  
  
"Great, Barsad told you he was hitting on me?" Blake sat down on a chair and rubbed his hands over his face. "In case you were wondering, or doubting, I don't actually consider myself gay, ok? I don't want to date men."  
  
Bane narrowed his eyes in confusion, but pulled out a chair and sat down beside Blake. "If I may be so bold, you seem to enjoy yourself with them, or at least from what I have seen."  
  
"That… ok, that was different," Blake admitted quietly, looking down at his hands. "I still don't get why you wanted that."  
  
"I already told you why. Perhaps you should be questioning why you are so opposed to the idea of having something with Barsad, instead."  
  
"I already said why."  
  
Bane glanced around the room towards the halls before he carefully unwound his scarf, unable to help touching his hand over his mouth slightly. He hated taking it off in such a public area, but it was for the most part empty, and he had always felt the barrier it created between him and others, not wishing it now.  
  
"Perhaps you are not interested in being with men, Blake, but that does not mean you cannot be interested in being with Barsad."  
  
"Who is, in fact, a man." Blake shook his head, but didn't meet his eyes.  
  
"Who is an attractive person, and who has captured your interests." He hesitated before adding, "I was not unattracted to men before my accident, but I never would have considered going to another for comfort. I have learned from my experiences that the world, and the attractions we hold in it, is not so black and white as we might think."  
  
Blake looked into his eyes suddenly, so steadily that it made Bane's stomach drop a bit.  
  
"You should tell him."  
  
He paused, the unease in his stomach growing. "I do not—"  
  
"Don't do that. I mean, I know why you don't. I get it. But you should," John persisted, and Bane could not help but worry over how obvious he must be, if it was so bad that John was telling him this.  
  
"There is nothing that I can possibly tell him," he insisted firmly.  
  
"You're just scared."  
  
He growled suddenly and rubbed his hand over his face. "Yes, of course I am scared, Blake. I have found a bit of something that makes me happy in a world I have found to be mostly cruel. I will do nothing to jeopardize that."  
  
"So you're just going to keep things how they are forever?"  
  
"I do not see an alternative."  
  
Blake shot him a look, looking disgruntled. "That sucks."  
  
He could not help but chuckle a little and place a hand on his shoulder. "Did you think that you were telling me something I did not already know?"  
  
"No, I just," he sank down into his chair a bit, "I thought if maybe one of you was given a push..."  
  
He shook his head. It was sweet that Blake thought in such a way, but he was new to the business, so to speak. He did not understand that while Bane knew Barsad valued him as a client, and now humblingly enough, as a friend, that he had no right to expect anything else of the man, no reason to think that their interactions, bought and paid for, were anymore more than that. Some affection, yes, but at a price that Bane quite willingly paid.  
  
"You are a kind man, Blake."  
  
"Not really," he deflected, and Bane stopped him with a squeeze to his shoulder.  
  
"You are. You have a heart that you dedicate to others, never yourself."  
  
"Others need it more." He glanced towards the hall.  
  
He felt a wave of sympathy for him. "But you need at least a little for yourself."  
  
"Nah, I'm fine," he said dismissively. "Hey, I've been kind of wondering if you could meet someone here," his voice trailed off hesitantly, "without your scarf."  
  
Bane's fingers tightened into the scarf's material reflexively, "I don't think that—"  
  
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it would be a good idea," Blake leaned forward, looking at him intently, "for both of you."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand," he admitted, feeling a slight tightness in his stomach; the urge to wrap his scarf around his face was nearly overwhelming even with only Blake there.  
  
"I… could you maybe just trust me? Barsad wanted you to try it off with more people, right? You could try this."  
  
"Kids are often thoughtlessly cruel," Bane commented quietly. He was surprised when Blake took his hand, looked at him intently.  
  
"Hey, I promise it'll be alright. Sometimes kids just have to be reminded about what's ok."  
  
Bane considered him a moment. "If I do this, trust you, will you trust me and at least give what I've said to you serious thought?"

  
____________________

  
Blake snorted. "What, you want me to go out with Barsad in exchange for this?"  
  
Bane shook his head quickly. "Not at all. I want your word that you will give it your serious consideration and reflection, not just a brush off."  
  
"I'm not really a deep thoughts person, Bane."  
  
"That is simply not true, Blake; you think too little of yourself," Bane scolded, and Blake almost smiled how his lips pursed in disapproval. If anyone thought too little of themselves in here, it sure wasn't him.  
  
"Ok, ok, I promise I will give it serious thought." He would, too. He was a man of his word, and Bane wasn't asking for much. He didn't really think it was going to change his mind, but he'd settle in and give it a serious going over in his head.  
  
"Very well." Bane stood and wrapped his scarf around his face. Blake figured that was as much of a breakthrough as he was going to get today. He knew he was asking a lot, but he also knew that this was a good idea.  
  
"Come on."  
  
He walked with Bane down the halls, more than a couple kids stopping to talk with him, and now Bane since a lot of kids had come to love the classes he put on with Barsad. Eventually, they made it to one of the dorms for the younger boys that he knew would be for the most part abandoned this time of day.  
  
"In here; could you maybe take the scarf off first?"  
  
Bane glanced down the hall and slowly unwound it when he saw it was empty. He didn't say a word, but Blake could see how his fingers were moving restlessly after he slipped it into his jacket pocket.  
  
Blake touched his arm lightly before he opened the door for them.  
  
Felix was in lying on his bed, poring over a comic book intently, his fingertips tracing over each panel as he silently mouthed out the words. It was always hard to get him to leave the room. He had lost his mother from a fire in their apartment. He had been 'lucky' in that only the burns on his chest had needed skin graphs, and it had taken him a long time to recover. In his time at St. Swithin’s, Blake had watched as the burn scars on his face slowly faded from a harsh red to a weathered silver sheen across his cheeks.  
  
It was never easy growing up in a boy’s home, but some had the odds stacked against them more than others.  
  
Bane paused in the doorway, watching quietly when Blake went to go sit by the bed and nudge playfully at Felix.  
  
"Hey, Felix."  
  
Felix looked up and gave him a shy, bright smile. "Blake!"  
  
"I brought my friend, like I said," Blake told him, ruffling through his thick brown hair even knowing he was getting too old for it and going to protest. "Now he's going to tell you why you should go join his boxing class, too."  
  
Felix sat up and fixed his hair, then made a face. "I don't want to."  
  
"And why would you not want to come to my class?" Bane asked quietly from the doorway.  
  
Felix startled and turned his head. Blake had to hold back a laugh at the way his eyes widened as he took in Bane's towering size. Bane stepped into the room and went over to Felix's bed, sitting down on the bunk across from it.  
  
"I am waiting," he said simply.  
  
"You're HUGE," Felix gaped as he said it, scooting forward on the bed to touch Bane's arm.  
  
Bane froze, startled by the sudden touch, then tipped his head back and laughed, lifting and flexing his arm for him. "And you are scrawny, which is why you should come to my classes, let me train you to be strong."  
  
Nothing was said about the scars they shared; nothing needed to be said. Blake felt a small genuine smile pull at his lips as Bane talked to Felix, told him about the class and scooted him off the bed firmly to give him a careful, brief, private lesson in the small space that had the boy laughing and panting before long.  
  
"So it is settled. You will come to my classes and learn what I have to teach you." Bane finished the lesson and tilted Felix's head up to look at him with the same authority he'd used to guide his stance and careful punches.  
  
Felix's expression wavered slightly. "Can't you just come in here and teach me?"  
  
Bane shook his head. "There isn't enough room in here to teach you properly. It must be done in the free area for you to truly learn."  
  
Felix sat back down onto his bed and kicked his legs against the box spring, clearly thinking it over. "The other kids have talked about you. They say you wear a scarf on your face during lessons."  
  
"I do," Bane answered carefully.  
  
"Could you not wear it?"  
  
Bane faltered at the question, not prepared for it. "It is what I always wear when I am out."  
  
"If I go, can you not?" Felix persisted anxiously.  
  
When Bane looked at Blake, he gave him an encouraging look. He'd be a liar if he said this wasn't sort of what he'd hoped would happen all along. Bane looks down at Felix and placed his large hand onto his head, nodding slowly.  
  
"If you come, I will not wear it."  
  
Felix drew in a slow breath and nodded. "Ok, I'm going to come next time," he promised.


	17. Chapter 17

The problem with making Bane a promise like he had was that Blake was a firm believer in carrying out promises. So whereas one person might have dismissed the idea after giving it a once-over, Blake found himself curled up on his bed with the thoughts that were percolating through his brain, and he found that after he had done the cliché pros and cons list, after he had had a couple of cups of coffee and paced the floors a bit, after he started wondering why he'd ever agreed to give this stupid thought the time of day…  
  
He couldn't sleep.  
  
Because the things Bane had said made a little more sense than he would have liked. Yeah he'd had a shit education, but this was still the 21st century, and he'd done his own growing. It wasn't like he had a problem with being gay, obviously, looking at the only two well-paying professions he'd had in his life. It was just something he didn't identify with and yeah, maybe that was partly because of more than one hurtful thing he'd seen or experienced growing up, but that didn't mean he had issues. He preferred women, always had, and he'd never been in the position where he'd ever even think of dating a man.  
  
Except now here he was lying in bed and thinking about it. The problem was that it seemed so appealing, and the real problem was that maybe Blake was realizing that that wasn't a problem at all. He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face before glancing at the clock. He thought about how it felt falling asleep in Barsad's bed, the amused little smiles he gave him, how good he smelled when he was leaning in close, how his stomach had fluttered when Barsad had wrapped his arms around him to dance close.  
  
The thing was, he was right, he didn't want to go out with men, but the thing was, Bane was also right, and maybe he did want to try going out with Barsad.  
  
He slipped down the hall, shaking his head at hearing more than one moan coming from various rooms as he listened to Barsad's a moment before knocking lightly. He let his knuckles rest on the wood when there was no response, and debated on coming back in the morning. Really, though, it was going to be better to do this now while it was fresh in his head.   
  
At least that was what he told himself when he quietly opened the door and poked his head in, finding Barsad sprawled out over his bed and twisted in the sheets. It wasn't like he hadn't walked in on him sleeping before, so he crept over and nudged his shoulder, getting shrugged off with a disgruntled noise.  
  
"Hey, I need to talk to you," Blake spoke softly, hesitating a minute before he ran his hand down the toned muscle of Barsad's arm.   
  
Barsad turned over and cracked an eye open, squinting at him. "Why must you always disrupt my bed?" He sighed and reached up to take hold of his wrist. "Come on, then." He pulled tiredly at him until Blake relented and slid under the mussed covers with him, felt him slip an arm around his shoulder.  
  
"I actually wasn't just trying to use you for your bed this time," he protested mildly. Blake felt more relaxed though; his lips twisted into amusement at Barsad's disbelieving sound as he settled back in and closed his eyes with a sigh when he realized that Blake was going to keep talking.  
  
"What is it, then?"  
  
"I, uh, well… I wanted to know if you'd go out with me, on a date."  
  
Barsad blinked his eyes open again, confused, and Blake honestly couldn't blame him.  
  
"I know, I just… I've been doing a lot of thinking, ok, and maybe I'd like to take you out one night, if you wanted to go."  
  
He couldn't hold back a shiver when one of Barsad's fingers trailed up the curve of his ear slowly, his voice rough from sleep. "You cannot possibly be horny; what has gotten into you?"  
  
"What? Nothing, I'm not saying I want to have sex!" He pushed at his chest and snorted. "Well, I mean, we could, maybe, if the date went well, but that's not what I'm asking. I want to give it a try, ok?"  
  
Barsad made a face. "I hate dates."  
  
"But you were trying to get me to go out with you, weren't you?" Blake sounded unsure now; maybe the entire thing had been a misunderstanding, and he was really embarrassing himself now.  
  
"Perhaps," Barsad agreed, "but not how you are probably thinking, with movies and popcorn and coffee."  
  
Blake chuckled then, relieved. "You don't like 'normal' dating, then. Fine, that's understandable; do you like paintball?"  
  
Barsad paused to consider it then pulled Blake closer, making him turn so he could spoon him. "I might like paintball," he agreed.

____________________

  
Barsad found that he did, in fact, enjoy paintball a lot. He especially enjoyed the pained yelp Blake let out whenever he managed to send a bright red pellet of paint smacking sharply onto his ass.  
  
That was certainly worth being woken up in the middle of the night for.  
  
He wasn't sure where the sudden change of heart had come from, but he could not say he was sorry for it. They had spent the evening together and it had been good, easily one of the nicest times Barsad had had out with another. He was having fun.  
  
He thought about that when Blake managed to send a dark blue pellet of paint splattering onto his back. Random pairing off had put them onto opposite sides for the current 'war' they were having, and he had thought his current position crouched behind some tires was less vulnerable than it clearly was. He could hear Blake's laughter as he ran off in the indoor arena.  
  
This clearly would not be tolerated.   
  
By the time it was over, they were a mess of colors and red marks from the force of the pellets smacking their skin. They were stripping out of the rented gear in the locker area, and Blake looked far too smug over his team having won. Surely no one could blame him for smacking his hand sharply over one of the sore spots on his ass when they had been left alone.  
  
It really was a delightful yelp.  
  
"I'm going to get you back for that later," Blake informed him happily when they left.  
  
Barsad leaned close to his ear and whispered suggestively, "I will look forward to it."  
  
He smiled when it sent a shiver up Blake's spine, and suggested they stop somewhere for dinner. Dinner turned into a couple of drinks, and drinks turned into just slightly slurred speech and playful touches beneath the bench, an arm wrapped around Blake's waist on the walk home, Blake pressing him against the door frame and Barsad gripping his jacket, pulling him into a kiss.  
  
He savored the press of Blake's lips for a few moments before he pulled back. "Goodnight, John."  
  
"Goodnight?" Blake sounded surprised, confused, and Barsad chuckled, pressed a kiss to his cheek before he let him go.   
  
"I never put out on the first date."  
  
Blake's groan of disappointment was something to savor. "Are you being serious right now?"  
  
"I wasn't aware I was dating someone with such loose morals..."  
  
Blake snorted and pushed at his shoulder. "Bastard. Alright, if you want to wait, I'm more than fine with that."  
  
Barsad had been, for the most part, teasing; it was not as though they had not already, but there was something in Blake's eyes, the desire there, seeing an eagerness for him, even knowing that the man had plenty of sex in his life. This, though, was for him, specifically, a desire that made Barsad's body nearly tingle with anticipation. He found himself somewhat interested in drawing it out, letting it grow, seeing if the hunger in Blake's eyes would burn brighter.  
  
"Good." He pulled him back for another kiss, licked lightly over the swell of his bottom lip. "Come inside, though, I want to kiss you some more."  
  
It was its own sort of thrill to take his time with Blake curled up on the bed with him, to kiss over him and feel it eagerly returned, for Blake to slide his tongue out and into his mouth with tantalizing flicks, to know that this was as far as they would go tonight so there was nothing to rush towards, there was only this to savor until they were breathless from it. He was far from surprised when they ended up curled up together asleep.

____________________

  
He was pretty goddamn sure that Barsad was trying to kill him. He was a monster; he was just honestly the worst human that Blake had ever met.  
  
And he was really, really, absolutely going to die if he didn't let him fuck him soon. It had been weeks, and it wasn't like he wasn't getting fucked on a daily basis, but this was different. He could admit that he wanted Barsad bad, and Barsad knew it and loved it, the cocky bastard.  
  
The kissing helped. Blake hadn't realized how much he’d missed it, how good it felt to just wrap himself up with someone—well, not just someone, with Barsad—and shiver a little over the intimacy there. How Barsad was more than happy to take his time and kiss over his lips until they were chapped and sore, then bite at them cruelly until they were stinging the next day.  
  
He had been worried, when he started this, over a lot of things, especially himself. He wasn't an idiot, he knew he had intimacy issues, strike that, that they BOTH had intimacy issues, and he was worried he might have a bit of a freak-out when he realized that he was in fact, not only dating someone he felt close to already, but that that someone was a man, and that Barsad might in turn have one when he realized he was dating someone period.  
  
It wasn't like he didn't have said freak-out, it was more that Barsad had just laughed it off when he’d started off on him, had pulled him into his bedroom for a nap, the sneaky bastard. Not that he couldn't be just as sneaky. First sign of Barsad trying to pull away, he'd pushed him into a chair and climbed onto him, nuzzled his ear and made him admit the things he liked about being with him, rewarding him with a little nibble to his lobe for each one, biting down remorselessly when he was a sarcastic shit.

It worked, the push and pull between them, surprisingly well in its own strange sort of way. Blake could be forward, pushy; he'd learned that he needed to be if he wanted to get anywhere when the odds were stacked against him from the get go, so he was pushy and Barsad was pushy right back in his own caustic sort of way.

He'd also worried about the whole Bane thing. If he was going to actually try making this work, then he sure as hell didn't want to play second fiddle while doing it. It wasn't like that, though; he never felt like Barsad was using him as a replacement. When Barsad curled up close to him, he was thinking about him, was looking at him with a fond, twinkling look in his eyes, was telling him what he liked about him. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter how Barsad felt about Bane, because it was clear he had room in his heart for both of them. The big sap.

He'd tell him, but he didn't want another black eye.

Besides, he really, _really_ wanted to have sex, and that was definitely not going to get him it. It was torture. He was ridiculously horny when he had no fucking right to be. He'd get done getting nailed into the mattress, thinking he was wrung dry, then he'd go out with Barsad, see one little wicked smirk from him, feel the brush of his knuckles against his arm and his body was on fire for him even when he had nothing left to give.


	18. Chapter 18

"You're a fucking sadist," he whimpered as Barsad scraped his beard against his jaw, sucked a wet kiss at the hollow behind his ear.

Barsad hummed lightly against it, sending a tingle up his body, and whispered, "I just love how much you want it. It's like you're dying for it. Squirming all around for it, when I know you're still opened up from a client."   

"Oh, shit," he breathed out harshly, fingers digging into the fabric of Barsad's shirt. "Don't talk about it like that when we're in a fucking restaurant. And I'm not squirming."

Ok, he was squirming, but only a little, only because Barsad had slid his hand up his knee inside of the booth.

"How often do you think about me when a client is using you?" Barsad persisted, pressing a kiss to his neck and pulling back to look at him, hunger in his eyes that Blake knew was reflected back in his own.

He groaned. "Don't. I don't even want to admit it."

That just made Barsad smirk wickedly, taking a slow, thoughtful sip of his drink. Thank God they were in a secluded part of the place, because they were being fucking ridiculous. Blake used to roll his eyes at people doing shit like this while out to eat, and yet he wasn't exactly stopping Barsad, was closing his eyes and choking back a moan when clever fingers traced slowly down his zipper.

"I think that, when we're done, I want to suck you off; would you like that? Maybe it'd help you take your mind off of my body for a few short minutes."

Blake's eyes snapped open when he heard the waitress clear her throat, set down their food and leave with an amused smirk. Barsad could have at least had the decency to be embarrassed for them. He only smirked and, well, at least they left a nice tip?

If someone had asked him later, he wouldn't have even been able to tell them what he'd eaten. He’d spent the entire meal with Barsad's hand on his crotch, just resting, just a quiet, warm reminder of what he'd said. It was more than enough. Blake couldn't resist shifting his legs apart further, sighing a little and closing his eyes when it was rewarded with Barsad's hand cupping him slightly, petting over him possessively.

"Eat your food, John."

"God, sometimes I hate you," he muttered when Barsad smiled charmingly at the waitress and insisted Blake get something for dessert.

Barsad gave him a throaty chuckle and, after some petty bickering, they finally agreed to flip a coin for who got to pay. "Are you ready?"

He was so ready that he was debating on the merits of getting a cab to get them home faster. As it was, he was holding his jacket in front of himself to avoid showing off when he stepped out of the booth. He swallowed and his eyes closed when Barsad's hand cupped over his ass and he leaned close to his ear.

"I'm going to go have a cigarette. Go into the bathroom."

"I don't have to—"

"Now."

Oh. Well, he did say he was going to suck him off when they were done. John just hadn't noticed that he failed to specify where. His mouth went dry and he nodded eagerly. When he got to the bathroom, he ducked into a stall and said a silent thank you to a kind cleaning crew and that they'd picked a nicer place to eat.

He also really hoped no one had to go to the bathroom.

When Barsad slipped into the crowded stall with him, he still had the taste of smoke on his tongue; Blake chased it eagerly, feeling a shiver prickling up his spine at the thrill of possibly getting caught. He tried to keep at least a little attention on if someone might be coming in while Barsad gave him a wicked look and slipped down onto his knees.

"I suggest you try not to be too loud," Barsad whispered, barely audible as he pressed his mouth against the rough denim of Blake's jeans. Blake's head smacked back onto the cool metal divider when he grated his cheek against the swell of his pants, the friction rubbing straight through to his dick.

Blake huffed out a laugh and sank his fingers into Barsad's hair, took a moment to be impressed when his zipper was worked down. "Oh Jesus, was that actually with your teeth? You are so fucking teaching me that later for clients."

"Not a chance."

Barsad rolled down his briefs and John spread his legs apart a little, feeling the flush creep up his belly as Barsad's graceful fingers curled around his cock. They held him how Barsad wanted him while he gave little squeezes, pumped his hand along him slowly as he sucked little wet marks just above the base of his cock that made Blake’s breath catch and his hips jerk.

"C-come on, you said you wanted to suck it," he urged, trying to angle so he could rub against Barsad's lips. He shouldn't be this fucking needy for it. He'd been with three clients today. He could still feel the ache in his ass, but right then it felt like if he didn't get Barsad's mouth on him he was going to lose his mind.

Barsad sucked him down with a greedy moan. Blake swore and hunched his shoulders, curled around him a little as his cock throbbed with pleasure at the scorching wet of Barsad's mouth and tongue. The noises from outside of the bathroom became distant as blood pounded in his ears, as Barsad's tongue curled around him in long, slow sweeps, pushed out past his lips, tasted him eagerly.

Blake's breathing came out in rushed pants as he watched Barsad's eyes close contently, his head angling down as he sucked, craned his neck so he could bob along him more. The suction felt amazing, perfect against his cock, and he nearly had to gasp for air as he tugged at Barsad's hair when he felt the sharp pleasure in his balls drawing tight.

"H-hey, look at me."

Blake dug his nails against his scalp until heavy, content eyes blinked opened slowly and looked up at him, focused. That satisfied look as Barsad pursed his lips and slurped wetly at the head of his cock, tongued up it and chased at the trail of precome sliding down it, that was all for him, not for a client, and the muscles in Blake's thighs trembled in reaction.

He grit his teeth to hold back a low keen as he came, yanking at Barsad's hair with each pulse of come that rushed from him. Barsad caught up his seed in his mouth, pulled back and opened it so that Blake could see the sheen of thick white against his tongue before he swallowed it down, head back so Blake could see the steady dip of his throat as he did it.

Their breathing was way too loud in the quiet bathroom, but neither of them cared about getting caught at that point. Barsad rested his forehead against his hip for a moment, kissed there while Blake rubbed the back of his head, straightened out the hair he'd messed by twisting it right between his fingers.

"Maybe I think about you when I'm getting pounded," he admitted, "but I think you think about me when you're sucking cock."

Barsad glanced up at him, lips curved and his throat sounding rough. "Maybe I do."

They straightened up, and Barsad pulled him in for a kiss. John could taste the come on his lips, licked off a bit that had smeared there. "Why here?" he asked. Their breath was still coming in shorter pants that brushed against each other’s cheeks.

Barsad shrugged and wrapped his arms around his shoulders for a moment. "I thought it would be more fun than the rooms where we're fucking other people all day."

It was... strangely thoughtful; romantic, in a completely unromantic way. He couldn't help the little smile against Barsad's mouth, his cheeks flushing when he realized Barsad could feel it, and the rare curve of his lips was kissed over tenderly, like it was something precious. He felt his stomach grow warm in a way that had nothing to do with lust or afterglow.

He'd long ago moved his pillow to Barsad's bed. He just slept better there, and Barsad hadn't said a word about it. Now he just peeled back the blankets for them, and when Barsad slotted against him he could feel the firmness of his cock settling happily and snugly between the curves of his ass. He yawned, reaching back to pat his thigh.

"You want to rub off on me?" he offered, feeling sleepy and content, but not wanting to just leave Barsad hanging after such a good time.

A breath of quiet laughter brushed across the back of his neck. "So thoughtful."

He felt himself grin a little goofily. "I'm sorry I can't be as romantic as a bathroom blowjob."

"It was a thoughtful gift," Barsad agreed contently and John reached back to smack his hip before they slept.  
  
Barsad kept teasing him; a few weeks later, and they still hadn't slept together beyond the restaurant incident. Blake had a new healthy respect for the man's level of self control, because basically he made Blake feel like he had absolutely none. He got it. Barsad wanted this to be different. From some more quiet admittance than Barsad would ever have liked, Blake had learned that any sort of relationship Barsad had had before had started with sex on the first date, and that's what the entire, short-lived affairs were always based on. It was nice that he wanted to make sure this wasn't like that.

But he would also like to get laid by his kind-of boyfriend.

He tried whining to Bane. Mostly he got laughed at. He seemed happy about them, though, had pulled John aside at St. Swithin’s and told him how pleased he was that he'd given it thought.

He hadn't even mentioned that they'd gone out. Apparently, Bane was just really perceptive, and also really rude for laughing.

"You don't understand, ok?" He'd shoved at his arm a little while they watched Barsad putting Felix into a gentle headlock... or at least Barsad's version of a gentle headlock.

"Oh?" Bane quirked an eyebrow at him as he kept an eye on the careful sparring.

It had taken Felix a week or two to work up the nerve to go to the class, peeking into the open area from the hall door. When Bane had finally spotted him, he'd stopped his lesson, confusing Barsad, then startling him as he closed his eyes, took a steady, calming breath and slowly unwound his scarf.

Not a peep out of the students, only some awe-widened eyes. If anything, he was pretty sure Bane had just replaced a superhero or two as far hero-worship went. It didn't hurt that John had talked to them all beforehand.

Sometimes kids just needed a careful reminder of what was ok.

"Come join us, Felix," he had said patiently, and Felix had scrambled out to join the rest of them. Barsad had watched with a quiet, proud look, and John had felt a smile creep onto his face as Bane went back to the lesson.

"Yeah, I mean, this is actually going great, disturbingly great, so great I'm waiting for us to both fuck it up, but I mean… You don't know what it's like to be able to have every bit of someone except ONE thing—"

He'd stopped at the look on Bane's face and had never felt like a bigger jerk in his life.

Bane looked away from him and watched the match.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

"It is nothing," Bane soothed quietly, glanced at him a moment. "I am glad you are happy with him." He chuckled softly. "And I hope you will endure the sexual frustration."

Blake groaned.

Barsad laughing at his frequent hard-ons around him certainly wasn't making him feel any better.

"Did you not get enough from clients today?" he asked as he rubbed Blake's thighs, the impromptu massage was what had caused it all, anyway. His thighs had been feeling sore from a client that was way too into basically folding John in half while he pounded into him. He was going to pull something, sooner or later.

"You _know_ it's not just that, even if it was a slow day." He swore softly when Barsad walked his fingers lightly over his prick, teasing at him through the soft cotton of his lounge pants. "A-ah, don't stop," he whispered, then couldn't resist a needy whine when he did just that.

"I think soon," Barsad said simply, and Blake perked up, lifted his head up from the bed.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Barsad straightened and John could see rare uncertainty in his eyes.

He sat up. "Hey, only if you actually want to, as much as I'm complaining," he reassured. "It's not right if you don't want it. I don't want you to think of me like a client you've got to please."

Barsad laughed at that, eyes clearing. "You would go broke trying to afford me."

"Smart-ass; I make good money now, and you made me save some of it. I'd buy you out for the whole day."

Barsad smirked in response, fondled him to get another moan before he let go. "You would not be disappointed."

"I'm sure, but I'd rather wait." He smacked at his hands and got his fingers grabbed up, bitten playfully.

"I just don't want things to change," Barsad admitted quietly after a moment, placing a kiss to his fingers. Blake scratched through his beard, holding back a chuckle at the content noise.

"Then we won't let it, and we'll wait."

"You could always put a call in to a client," Barsad suggested, his eyes bright with mischief.

"What, like a booty call?" John blinked. "Can you do that?"

"Of course; it's a good way to get more money." He smirked and pulled him into a brief kiss. "Or if you are horny."

Blake sort of wondered if Bruce had plans that day. They had a lesson over at St. Swithin’s later, but maybe if he had an hour or so free...


	19. Chapter 19

It turned out that eccentric billionaires liked to sleep until 3, but as luck would have it, they were willing to rise from their beds at a more reasonable 2 if sex was in the cards.

"I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to call you." John could practically hear his jaw pop when he yawned over the phone.

"I'm pretty sure you won't regret getting your ass out of bed and into mine," he shot back. There was a long pause, an amused sound.

"We'll just have to see then, won't we?"

John supposed he could forgive getting hung up on. He palmed himself through his pants then shook his head in disbelief that he was in fact a whore who had called up a client to get laid because his boyfriend, who was in fact just down the hall and so, so available, told him to.

If he had to be honest, though, Bruce was the best option as far as his contacts list went if he wanted to get pounded until rendered insentient.

He stroked his hand restlessly over his dick, eyes drifting shut as he relaxed into the bed, letting his mind wander to thoughts of Barsad, his sultry moans and the scrape of his beard against his chin when they kissed.

"I'm pretty sure hookers aren't supposed to masturbate before they have a client. You must have been really anxious."

His eyes flew open. Bruce was standing in the doorway, already sliding his jacket off as he looked at him curiously. He licked over his lips and didn't stop his hand, not caring if it was a cheap move; it caught enough clients’ attentions.

"Just warming things up for you. Come on."

Bruce made an amused noise and it wasn't long until he was out of his suit and into the bed with him, hands going to his thighs and spreading him, tugging him down closer as he knelt down on the bed, touching over Blake's still covered thighs like he owned every right to. It was weird; most clients doing that would be a major turn off, but for Bruce it was just who he was. He was a force of nature, something that couldn't be controlled, and when he slid down Blake's cotton pants past his hips, sucked him into his mouth without a moment’s hesitation, Blake could admit that it was kind of fantastic.

"Yeah," he urged, not at all sorry to break up the expensive gel in Bruce's hair when he gripped his fingers into it, yanked. It spurred Bruce on, and Blake watched his cheeks hollow, how he slurped and reached down to palm over his balls, making him arch and curse as cool air hit him when Bruce pulled back, smirking.

John felt his entire body go hot when Bruce took hold of him, ran a thumb over his tip and spoke, "So... I'm going to ride this until you break for me, kid. Where are your condoms, again?"

Yeah. Bruce had been the right choice, but he wasn't a fucking kid.

Still, good God, the man had a great ass. He panted shallowly under him, chest heaving, and smacked feebly at his hands when Bruce rubbed his come all over his chest.

"Oh, oh, you fucker," he grunted weakly.

"Again?"

"Fuck yes, ag—shit!" He barely managed to shove Bruce off of him. For rich playboy, the man was pretty much pure muscle. "Sorry, can't; I didn't realize how late it had gotten."

"Another client?" Bruce asked, but he didn't seem too ruffled about it. "Hot date?"

"Oh yeah, hot date with a boy's home." He made a face and tried to wipe the come off his chest to no avail; he definitely needed a shower. When Bruce paused gathering his clothes and looked at him curiously, he explained.  
"I do volunteer work there. I've got Barsad and a friend running a class and some other stuff going on."

"That's generous of you," Bruce remarked casually.

He shrugged. "I do what I can. Kids need a chance." He glanced over to see Bruce looking at him a little strangely, his face a little softer. Oh, right, sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn't the only orphan in the room. The guy had money, power, but it was still clear he was hurting from his past.

And John was willing to be just enough of an asshole for the sake of the kids to use it to his advantage.

"You know, I'm sure Wayne Enterprises does a lot of charity work, but if you're ever looking for one more, St. Swithin’s is a good place to start. It got its funding cut recently, and there's a lot of boys in the program that that's going to work out badly for."

"Yeah?" Bruce's tone was light, noncommittal. Blake hesitated; he really hated talking about it, but for the kids...

"Yeah, I grew up there," he muttered, digging through his dresser for a change of clothes. That got Bruce's attention, one orphan to another. He didn't say anything, but he gave Blake a long, thoughtful look before he saw himself out. Blake hoped a little bit more funding might find its way to St. Swithin's doorstep.

____________________

"And you really told him?" Barsad asked, surprised that Blake would be that open, though he supposed Blake did many things for the children that he would not ordinarily do.

Blake nodded, and Barsad plucked the cigarette from his mouth to take a slow drag. They had just finished up with preparing and eating dinner in the kitchen. A couple of the other workers had been trying to pull together a regular Friday evening meal kind of thing, and it had become sort of nice. Watching Selina bicker with John was especially entertaining, and Barsad had found himself elbows deep in soapsuds for the cleanup portion, Blake dabbing bits of suds onto his nose and ears until he threatened to dunk him in the sink.

It had been that moment of playfulness that had struck him, had made him realize that he was more than just content with life, but that he was happy with it, enjoying it and having Blake in it. If it had not been such a sappy sentiment, he might have shared it with Blake. As it was, he only rubbed suds into his hair, pulled him back to his bedroom to lie out with him.

"It's worth it if it does some good. Hell, I'd fuck him for free if it did."

Barsad chuckled and tugged at his ear. "If you're not getting paid, I'd consider it cheating."

Blake laughed and handed him the phone from the dresser when it started to go off. Barsad felt a flash of heat in his stomach when he saw it was Bane. He let his voice dip low, ignoring Blake's amused look when he answered.

"Hello, handsome. You know you don't have to call to confirm, I'm ready for you tonight."

He choked on a lungful of smoke when a decidedly female voice answered.

"No wonder he enjoys you."

He coughed and breathed in some fresher air before answering, "Talia?"

"You remember me? How charming."

"Of course; your food sustains me, thank you. Why are you calling?" There was a tingle of worry in his stomach. Bane was supposed to come tonight. Things had been going well between them, very well. Unfortunately, being with Blake did not suddenly cease the unacceptable feelings that had grown in his fickle heart for Bane, but they had become manageable, something he reluctantly accepted and moved on from. He had Bane's friendship, and he treasured it just as he had come to treasure what he had with Blake; this strange relationship that made him feel nervous but comfortable.

"I am calling because he refuses to. He will not be visiting tonight." Her tone sounded full of disapproval.

"Is everything alright?"

"He has thrown out his back, and would crawl to you if I didn't cancel the appointment myself. As it is, I had to wrestle the phone from his grasp."

There was the sound of the speaker being covered, of light argument. Barsad made a noise of sympathy. It had happened before, but not to the extent where an appointment was missed. Bane's back was bad from a past experience, and at times it flared up for him.

"Tell him to rest, or I will refuse him next time," He warned and Talia laughed in approval.

"I will inform him, thank you, though I must say if you wanted to do a house call instead, he could perhaps lie back for you and enjoy himself," she teased lightly before she hung up the phone.

"That's a shame. It's not a bad idea, you know." Blake took back the cigarette, clearly having overheard. "I'm sure he could use some cheering up."

"And you of all people should know my rule against house calls."

"Yeah, and I also know your rule about breaking all of your rules with Bane," Blake replied glibly.

Barsad snorted. It was bad enough that Blake clearly knew of his feelings for Bane; it was worse that he didn't seem at all perturbed by them. If he did, he could at least try to convince himself it was hurting his relationship with Blake to hold onto them. Blake clearly wasn't threatened, though; he enjoyed Bane's company, and Barsad had experienced the discomfort of Blake pointing out some of their instances of closeness more than once. Breaking another rule with him and doing a house call was sure to make things worse.

Still... He'd known Bane had been having a trying week, that he had been looking forward to the visit in particular. When he was quiet in contemplation, Blake leaned in and kissed him.

"Just go," he goaded lightly. "You want to go."

He shook his head. "It wouldn't feel right to go to a client's home."

Blake went quiet for a moment before speaking again, "Then go as a friend."

"I just got done telling you, if I don't charge him, it counts as cheating." He pulled Blake back in for another slow kiss, stopping and tilting his head thoughtfully.

"What?"

He lowered his eyes at him, ran his fingers down his arm. The immediate shiver that ran through Blake was rather precious.

"I was simply thinking… that perhaps we could see him as a friend, together. As he did enjoy watching, after all."

Blake groaned. "Are you being serious right now? You want to give him another show?" His eyes lit up eagerly.

"It would kill two birds with one stone, really," he admitted. "I want you, and I wanted our first time together like we are now to not be in our working rooms."

Blake sat back and thought about it. "Sure, why not? This sort of started because of us fucking for him, anyway; let’s make this one a thank-you."

Barsad had to laugh at that, pulling him in for a kiss, feeling a fondness in his heart for the just-barely-there smile he saw on Blake's lips. "Very well; a thank you, to a friend," he agreed.

He called Talia back for the address, made sure she'd be out for a few hours, and she agreed to leave the key under the mat.

The look of shock on Bane's face when they walked into his bedroom towing a duffle bag with them had been well worth any extra effort on their part. He nearly dropped his book, setting it down quickly and straightening slightly on his bed, wincing at the movement.

"I do not..."

Barsad laughed. "When Talia said you were not to come and see me, we decided to come see you."


	20. Chapter 20

Bane stared at his unexpected visitors in a quiet sort of surprise from his place propped up on the bed with some pillows so he could read.

He had been ordered to bed by Talia, and felt the need to remind her, yet again, that she was under his care, not the reverse. He had argued that he was fine to work, more than fine to go to his appointment; there was merely a stiffness in his back, a sharp pain when he stood, but surely nothing that should keep him in bed.

She had studied him with stiff lips for a moment, pressed on his spine and listened to the sudden pained inhale.

_"If you get out of this bed, I will push you down the stairs. I am rescheduling your classes and I am calling Barsad this instant to cancel, or at least see if he will make a home visit."_

He had been disappointed, and honestly had thought the last part had been a joke. He should have known better with her. She had actually persuaded him to make a house visit. One day, she was sure to get him arrested with her antics.

But for now, he was in enough pain that he would allow himself to reap the benefits. He sat up a little more when they came to sit on the bed beside him. "I certainly did not expect to see either of you today. I am sorry I cannot stand to greet you."

Bane smiled a little at the look exchanged between them. He had been enjoying seeing their relationship grow, the little secret glances and expressions in their eyes towards one another. He had certainly never thought he would one day be playing matchmaker, but he was pleased with the results. They both were special to him, and they deserved this.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure we can get a rise out of you somewhere," Blake remarked, tossing the duffle bag onto the nearby chair.

"We?" He raised his eyes curiously, swallowing when Blake slowly slid off the thin blue cotton shirt he had been wearing.

"We," Barsad confirmed. He walked over and leaned to kiss him. "Your bed is smaller, but perhaps we might have use of it while you watch? You certainly seemed to enjoy it before."

He groaned slightly at their intention, cupped Barsad's cheeks in his hands and kissed him gratefully. He had certainly enjoyed watching them, how they moved together so beautifully, and their soft noises of pleasure. He had only not asked to see it again because he was unsure if it would be appropriate. The memories had been fuel for more than one pleasant daydream in the shower.

"I can leave the bed, if it is easier," he offered. The chair was close by; surely it would not be too much to move to it.

Barsad gave him a disapproving look. "Do not move. If we make your back worse, Talia will surely poison us."

He relented, settled back and watched as Barsad sat down beside him, pulled Blake into his lap and ran a hand up his chest. A soft sigh left Blake's lips, and he dropped his head back to rest on Barsad's shoulder, his belly dipping when Barsad caressed over it.

"You want to tell us what to do again?" he asked, and the inviting look on his face, the soft flutter of his dark eyelashes, it was something Bane had not seen personally directed towards him. It was something that made his breathing quicken slightly, something that helped him understand just why Blake must be quite popular with his clients.

"I believe that you both know quite well enough what to do now, as long as I do not have to remind you to keep it slow."

Blake made an amused noise and tilted his head to kiss Barsad, to take his lower lip between his teeth and tug playfully. "God, it's about time," he muttered and Barsad laughed, nipped at him in return.

"I know, I have been enjoying your anxious waiting,"

Blake snorted and twisted in his lap more. Bane watched as they kissed. He had seen it on occasion now, but it had felt invasive to watch. Now he knew he was a welcome spectator and enjoyed it; how their lips turned slick and slid against one another’s, the soft, eager moan from Blake when Barsad's tongue slipped into his mouth and he pushed him down onto the bed, climbed onto him and dipped down for another taste.

Their actions left them half draped over his legs, and Bane had no intentions of pointing that out. Instead, he watched as Blake's hands pulled impatiently at Barsad's shirt, how he muttered in annoyance and slid his hands under it instead when it wasn't done away with, tugged it up and smirked when Barsad's head dropped suddenly, his forehead against his neck, groaning  as Blake's fingers ran up his chest, a thumb flicking roughly over his nipple.

"Fucking tease," he whispered, his eyes going dark with desire when he tugged sharply and Barsad hissed, arched into his hand. "Maybe we're going too fast. Maybe we should slow it down." He nuzzled at Barsad's cheek. "It's not like I've been waiting months to be back inside of you."

Barsad chuckled, crushed their lips together for a moment and growled. "If you try, I will fuck you so hard I will ruin you for any future clients," he promised.

Blake sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes lowered, he gripped at Barsad's arms. "I want you to," he admitted, and Barsad laughed, kissed across his chest.

"Ruin you?"

"No, fuck me."

Barsad's lips curled into a smile. "I can do that."

Bane felt his own cock twitch with interest in the loose confines of his lounge pants as he watched them finish stripping. It had never occurred to him before that he had not seen such a thing, Barsad giving instead of receiving. It had never been something he'd thought to do. Though now it occurred to him that perhaps it might be a pleasurable thing, he would never know how to broach such a topic.

Barsad looked pleased when he saw how he was rubbing himself slowly through the cotton of his pants. He reached over him for their bag, stealing a kiss as he retrieved their lubricant and condoms.

"If you can hold back for it, I can suck you after," he offered.

"I doubt I can hold back seeing both of you," he admitted. "You are far too arousing."

That earned a throaty laugh and another kiss before Barsad was slicking his fingers, moving Blake onto spread knees and rubbing at his opening.

"Listen to you take them," Barsad encouraged softly when he worked his fingers into Blake who dropped his head back, his lips parting into a groan. "Do they feel good?"

"F-fuck, of course," Blake murmured, resting his head on Barsad's shoulder and crying out softly as Barsad stretched him slowly. His hips rocked down eagerly and his fingers scrambled across Barsad's shoulders, digging in and holding on tightly.

Bane's breathing quickened when Barsad lounged beside him, propped up on the pillows with him, his own cock flushed eagerly as he rolled on a condom and slicked himself. Bane found it a powerful temptation to reach over and touch him. As it was, their shoulders brushed, their arms touched, and when Blake knelt over Barsad's lap, his leg was pressed against Bane's.

He watched as Barsad guided himself to Blake, how Blake sank down slowly, gasping, the muscles in his shoulders and thighs tight with effort. Barsad pulled him until their bodies were flush together. Blake's eyes closed and his soft pants traveled the short distance to brush over Bane's skin. They were beautiful; the slow, sensual rocks of Blake's hips, Barsad's hands cupping the curve of his ass, petting his sides and whispering soft encouragements as he was ridden.

Sweat slicked their bodies soon, made them shine in the low light. Blake curled into Barsad, wrapped his arms tight around him, a breathless litany of 'yes's and choked moans spilling out from his lips. Barsad took hold of his hair, yanked his head back, made him arch and nearly smirked at all of the wanton need written across Blake's face.

Barsad licked across Blake's lips, into his mouth for a heated kiss that Blake whined for, snaked his own tongue out in return and made a frustrated noise when Barsad pulled back to deny him it. The action was repeated again, then, by the third time, Blake growled, shoved at his shoulders.

"Let me!"

Barsad bit his chin unrepentantly then grabbed it in a tight grip and turned him towards Bane, leaned in close and whispered into Blake's ear. His brown eyes, blown wide with desire, fixed on him and there was a split second of confusion, the sharp sound of Barsad's hand slapping down on Blake's ass, jolting him forward, encouraging him until he was twisted in Barsad's lap, his damp hand bracing onto Bane's chest the only warning Bane received before his lips were devoured in a heated kiss. Spit-slicked lips slid and wet his own, eager whines vibrating against his lips as they were crushed against, mouthed over, sucked on.

He forgot himself in the moment, his hand left his cock, and both cupped Blake's cheeks instead to return his passions, smearing precome against his cheek, pressing his own tongue out to meet his and slicking over his teeth.

"I told him he should say thank you," Barsad's voice was thick, raspy, a sure sign he was close to losing himself, "for pushing us together."

He grunted in surprised when Blake's hand found his cock, a soft "don't move" muttered against his lips when his first instinct made his hips rock up into the sudden hold. He felt the flare of pain in his back and Blake stroked over him, made a noise of sympathy.

"I've got this," Blake promised, and even while he held his cheeks and kissed him, Bane could not help but glance over at Barsad, not wanting to overstep. Barsad's hand touched his leg briefly.

"We wanted to do this," he assured, and then his hand went to John's prick. He chuckled when he took the swollen length in his hand, traced his thumb slowly under the head of it while Blake grunted, tried to buck eagerly into the grip. Within a few strokes, John was crying out against Bane’s mouth, his eyes clenched tightly shut as his body went still. Bane could feel a hot stripe of come splash across his stomach as Barsad worked Blake's length between his fingers, coaxing out more until Blake pushed at his hand to make him stop.

Blake made a content noise after. His hand went from quick strokes against Bane's cock to slowly palming up it, pressing him against his own stomach and giving lazy twists of his wrist.

Apparently, it was frustratingly easier for Blake to tease when he had found his own satisfaction. He listened to his soft chuckle when he reached with his own hand, wrapped it around Blake’s and forced him into a faster pace.

"Come on, let me see," Blake urged, rubbing his cheek against Bane's. His eyes were downcast and watching him with an avid interest until Bane growled, barely held back from jerking his hips forward as his pleasure shot through him in a rush, milked out by Blake's hand.

Barsad hummed in satisfaction while Bane panted, relaxed back. He stole Blake’s lips back to claim for himself, gripped onto his hips. His hands now slippery with come and sweat, they slid against his flushed skin, and he dug his nails in to urge Blake to move for him, snapped his hips up roughly making him hiss. His lower lip caught between his teeth at the overstimulation, but he moved slowly, rolled his hips, and when Barsad's head sank back into the pillow and he groaned, Blake watched him, eyes lidded, a small smile of satisfaction tugging at his lips.

Bane had to chuckle slightly at the thoughtfulness of packing wet wipes. He took care of himself and Blake as the man slid backwards and lay back on Barsad's legs, sighing.

"Thanks."

"Thank you," he answered sincerely. It had certainly not been how he had expected to spend the evening in bed.

Barsad snorted when Blake refused to move, rubbed over his stomach and scratched a little until Blake finally squirmed and went to clean up better in the bathroom. He let Bane pull him into a brief kiss. He stroked his thumb across his neck, before pulling back and enjoying Barsad's amused look.

"I understand if you both have other clients…" He didn't want them to feel as though they had to stay and keep him company simply because his back was choosing to be treacherous. "If you are willing to retrieve my wallet from the dresser, I can repay you for your kindness."

Barsad went still for a moment, the small upward curve of his lips evening out. He slid off of the bed to dress, scratching the back of his neck. "You do not—" He stopped and shook his head. "It is nothing; this was on the house, but we will go."

He did not understand the sudden change in Barsad's demeanor, how he shoved a few items into his bag without looking at him, until his words sank in. "You did not—" He realized his error. "You wished to do this as a gift." And he had tried to bring money into it, had cheapened it.

Barsad slipped into his pants. "It is nothing. We didn't wish for you to be stuck alone in bed."

"I didn't understand; I'm sorry," Bane apologized softly, feeling guilt over his crassness settle poorly in his stomach. "Talia made a joke, I thought that..."

Barsad paused in picking up his shirt and slowly nodded his head in understanding, his body relaxing. "She made the same comment to me, about a house visit." He smiled a little, ruefully. "How could you have thought otherwise, without our saying? I should not have assumed, either."

Bane reached out and grasped his wrist when he passed close enough. "Will you come rest, then? It was a lovely gift. I feel terrible for misunderstanding it."

He set down his shirt, dipping his head slightly in agreement, and sat on the edge of the bed. When Blake stepped out of the bathroom, he flopped back down beside him, looking tired, and Barsad snorted, leaned down to kiss him. They spent the evening talking, and by the end of it, Barsad had ended up beside him again, his fingers curled into Blake's hair, Blake already having drifted off into sleep. Bane could tell Barsad was not far off, either, his part of the conversation having become quiet noises of confirmation and brief nods of his head as it laid against the pillows.

Bane smiled fondly and patted over his hand. "Sleep; I do not mind."

"You will be bored," he argued quietly, and Bane chuckled, reassured him that he had his book and let him sleep.

He did not recall himself falling asleep, as well, but he woke to a kiss on the forehead, slender fingers gently pulling his book from his lap where it had slipped.

"How sweet you three look together," Talia whispered.

"How inappropriate that you should be checking on us," he mumbled slightly, feeling a bit of red heat his cheeks. He checked quickly, but found them both under a blanket already, tucked in, and he was certain it was her hands that did it.

"I did not expect them to stay; Blake is very handsome, isn't he? I would have trouble choosing between them."

He shook his head and took the pain pill she brought, the glass of water. "You read far too much into things."

"They are here, are they not? I certainly didn't ask both of them to come, and yet I highly suspect both of them did indeed, come." Her lips twisted with amusement at her word play. Her amusement only grew as the flush on his cheeks did likewise, but she wrapped her arms around him briefly, made certain he was feeling better before she left them for the night.


	21. Chapter 21

Blake had gotten used to waking up in someone else’s bed, so when he woke up in Bane's, it only took a moment or so of disorientation to figure out what was going on. He liked how the other two had managed to settle in close while they slept. He carefully unwound his hair from Barsad's fingers and sat up to just watch them for a moment. It had been nice, last night. They'd talked about it on the walk up, if they should let Bane touch them, if they should pull him into their little thank-you.

Mostly, it had been his idea, but he hadn't expected Barsad to want him to do the pulling. It hadn't been bad, though; actually, it had been pretty amazing, feeling Bane's large hands on him, his lips while Barsad rocked into him. Not even just 'client' nice. He was begrudgingly starting to have to rethink the whole 'not gay' thing and settle himself more into of the middle of the Kinsey scale. He was pretty sure that would have upset him a lot more before, but it was sort of hard to ignore that he was begrudgingly bi while he was dating Barsad and currently debating on waking him up with a kiss to see if he wanted to blow Bane with him before they left for work.

"You're not normal, John." Barsad nuzzled his ear, voice scratchy from sleep. Blake snorted, kissed his cheek. He liked that he called him John now. Since he started working, no one else did, and somehow it made it more special.

"Not crazy, I just figured if he has to be stuck in bed all day..."

"It was a onetime thing." Barsad stretched out his arms and they dressed. Barsad wanted to leave Bane a note, but Blake insisted on waking him at least, telling him goodbye, which was done sans blowjob which, honestly, Blake thought was a shame for both of them.

"You know, I have heard word that many boyfriends do not try to sway their own to sleep with another," Barsad remarked thoughtfully as they walked down the street.

"Yeah, well, you'd go broke pretty fast, then," Blake responded happily, enjoying the quick look Barsad shot him. "You know I don't mind, though, right? I mean, just, whatever happens with him. Just try not to leave me in the dust with it."

Barsad looked over at him, his footsteps slowing so they fell into pace. He hooked his arm into his and was quiet for a few moments.

"You are not a replacement, John."

"Of course I'm not," he replied seriously. "I've never thought I was, but here's the thing, you like us both, and I'm ok with that. Hell, we make our livings sleeping with other people, so clearly neither of us is exactly the jealous type.”

"Cheat on me and see just how wrong you are about that," Barsad warned him. "It's different, business is business."

"And this is different, too. You've been in l—" He stopped at the cold look Barsad shot him. "Fine, you've had feelings for him for a long time, don't even bother denying it. It's different with him, ok? I don't mind it, and if something were to happen, just don't forget about me."

Barsad sighed. His arm went from hooked around Blake’s to wrapping around his waist before he spoke again, "As if I could; who would steal my pillow every night? It is nothing, though; even if it was something for me, even possibly for him, I won't let it be, not as we are now."

Blake let it go there. He'd said his piece about it. He'd always understood why Barsad felt like he couldn't be with Bane, but he didn't want to be in the middle of them if that changed.

Ok, that was a lie; he could sort of imagine himself in the middle of them a little too well.

Bane was back to visiting the next week, a little tender but well enough for Barsad to scoot Blake out of his room. Blake went with a laugh, told them to have fun. He had his own clients to visit, and now that they'd finally slept together as an actual couple, Barsad had been convinced bringing sex into their relationship wasn't going to mess things up, so he was getting laid rather nicely.

Nicely enough that they had to back off more than a little after overdoing it a few nights in a row and making themselves rather useless for their clients. Ra's hadn't been all too pleased at that.

_"I don't care what you two are up to on your own time together, but when it starts affecting your ability to work, then it becomes my business."_

His first official write-up. Selina offered to put it up on the fridge for him. They'd backed off, though; there was just no sense in exhausting each other unless they had a day to sleep it off. Besides, sometimes it was nice to know that they had something that wasn't just about fucking, something that made him feel pretty damn good, and it wasn't like they weren't getting enough sex.

Especially since Bruce Wayne kept coming to see him.

"He likes you," Selina had explained with a slight shrug, not seeming at all worried about it. "You are pretty cute."

He'd mentioned it to her, not to rub it in or anything, but if Bruce kept coming to him, he didn't want her getting pissed at him. He could always turn him down; though truth be told, he was a pretty fun client.

"I just wanted to make sure it was—"

"What, ok?" Selina made an amused noise. "I'm not his babysitter."

"Yeah, but I'm not a thief, you know? Barsad said he's your regular."

She glanced over at him in the reflection of her vanity mirror as he stood in her doorway. "Blake, come in and shut the door."

When the door clicked shut, she turned in her chair to look at him.

"I'm only telling you this so that you stop worrying about it, and I'm only going to say it once. Bruce rarely comes to me for sex." She laughed slightly at his surprised look. "Don't get me wrong, kid, it happens a lot, too, but it's not _why_ he comes to me. Most of the time, he just needs someone to talk to, someone he can be as normal around as he actually gets."

"I don't know, he seems pretty normal to me, as normal as any of the other rich guys coming here are."

"Exactly." She shook her head. "Because that's what he wants you to see. He likes you, though, that's why he keeps going to you. He thinks you're fun, which is good because, believe it or not, Bruce Wayne doesn't have a lot of actual fun."

She shooed him out of her room after that, and Blake figured that was as much of a strange blessing as he was going to get from her to not worry about prioritizing Bruce.

Which was good, because he had a pretty big thank-you to give the man; it wasn't every day that large anonymous donations made their way to St. Swithin’s.

He wasn't really supposed to know about it, but it had been a large enough chunk that there were rumors about it going around the home. Now there was talk about some of the former programs that had been cut being reinstated, which meant that he wasn't above giving Bruce a call and inviting him down for whatever he wanted.

For a price, of course. He laughed to himself at Barsad's idea of what constituted cheating between them in their relationship. No freebies, well, except to Bane; John was pretty sure Barsad would agree to giving him another freebie any day if he wasn't afraid of it leading down a slippery slope.

Bruce didn't seem all that surprised by the call, but he also didn't sound overly thrilled that Blake had found out.

"I know why you're calling, but I didn't do it to get something out of it. So much for anonymous."

"I know that, I'm not offering _my_ charity here. I'm expecting full price and a great tip, but I'm telling you to get your ass down here and come get me while I'm feeling very generous."

There was a moment of silence then a soft, amused snort over the speaker. "I'll see if I can fit you into today's schedule."

Barsad had laughed at all of the red bites and sucking marks on his ass and between his thighs. John had just smirked, sighing contently when Barsad lay out on top of his back, crushed him down onto the mattress and rubbed his beard against his neck to leave his own red mark.

"Laugh all you want. You'll never guess what I got him to agree to."

When Barsad made an inquisitive noise, John wriggled under him to turn around and face him. "He said he'd come to St. Swithin’s and talk to the boys, meet up with them. Do you have any idea how great that will be for some of those boys?"

Barsad gave him a warm smile and let his head rest on his chest. "That's wonderful, John."

It was, too. Bruce Wayne, billionaire orphan? The boys had all lit up, clamoring around him when he went to different rooms to talk with them, play some games even. He'd shown up with Selina, having informed John that it wouldn't do to turn up without a pretty girl on his arm. Apparently, it wasn't that uncommon for Selina to be found mingling with Gotham's upper crust, as the press that had gotten wind of what was going on and shown up didn't even bat an eye at her being there.

It was a class day for the kids, so John had gone along, Barsad, too. Bane wasn't exactly ready to run the risk of teaching a class scarf-less in front of the cameras, so he'd skipped the lesson with his apologies. Barsad had roped Blake into helping, instead, and when they saw the flash or two of cameras during the lesson, he'd been glad for Bane's sake that the man had skipped out.

He barely held back a startled noise when Bruce suddenly draped an arm over him, pulled him in front of the paparazzi.

"Here he is, trying to be modest and hide away with the boys," Bruce announced loudly. Blake wished he'd at least worn a cleaner shirt, or that he wasn't covered in sweat with a red mark on his cheek from where Barsad had just gotten a blow in. Mostly, though, he was confused on why he was being put into the spotlight to begin with.

There was a flash of a bulb; he saw stars briefly before he noticed a recorder being thrust into his face.

"Mr. Blake, now that you've been named as Bruce Wayne's coordinator for St. Swithin’s, how do you plan to work with the new funding being granted to the home?"

John was sure that the dumbfounded look on his face made for a great photo-op.

He glanced over at Bruce and Selina desperately. Selina outright ignored him. Bruce just plastered on a bright smile and patted his back. "John and I have a lot to talk about, still. He's been so busy working with the children that we haven't been able to go over his ideas in detail, but I'm sure he'll have a statement for you next you see him."

Blake stared at Bruce as the reporters trickled out of the area.

Barsad came over while the boys ran through drills. "What is going on?"

Bruce glanced at Selina before turning his attention to John. "I heard from a very valuable source that you give more of yourself to this place than I ever could, Blake. You deserve recognition for that; more than that, you actually deserve to be paid for it, so it's part of the funding, now."

"So, you're what, then, foisting a job on him without his knowledge?" Barsad asked, his disapproval clean in his tone. "Because that worked out well for you when you tried it on Selina."

Selina gave them all a slightly bored look. "He tried to make me into an office fixture. He's offering Blake his dream job, you know that's different."

Blake was speechless, to put it mildly. Selina was right; this was what he'd always wanted, to be able to take care of the boys, give them a chance, someone to look out for them.

"I—thank you," he finally said softly, the corner of his lip ticking up into a small smile.

"Don't mention it," Bruce patted his back once more before lowering his voice. "I'm going to miss that ass though, kid."

When he left with Selina, John turned around and couldn't resist wrapping his arms around Barsad, ignoring the soft snickers from some of the older boys. He'd already given them the sexuality talk; they'd get over it.

"Jesus, can you believe this?"

He pulled back, confused over how stiff Barsad was in his arms for a moment before the man returned the embrace, rubbing his hand briefly over the small of his back. "I am very happy for you, Blake."

Barsad went back to the lesson and Blake went to take a few moments in the bathroom to process the sudden change of events. When he went out, he ended up talking to the father, working some things out with him, like when he'd start working there steadily, what to do with the funding in different programs. He couldn't be there full time until his contract with Ra's ran out, but they could make a lot of headway before then.

The father clasped their hands firmly together. "I don't know what you did, Blake, but thank you."

With any luck, the father would never, ever, know what he did to put himself into contact with Bruce.

He ended up walking home alone, having taken so long that Barsad had packed up and headed out without him, probably not wanting to miss a later appointment he'd set up with Bane in lieu of them not sparring together. He'd long ago realized that fighting and sex kind of went hand-in-hand with those two. He decided he'd pick them all up some dinner.


	22. Chapter 22

"Are you well, Barsad?" Bane's tone was concerned as he skated soapy hands up his chest, held him back against his strong form as the hot water rushed over them.

When he'd come home still dripping with sweat, Bane had been waiting patiently. When he tried to clean up for their appointment, though, he had insisted on squishing into the cramped stall with him, washing his hair and scrubbing the sweat from his skin with his blunt fingernails.

He sighed and leaned into him more. "I am well, just tired."

"Would you like to reschedule?" Bane questioned softly as his hands pet down his ribs, squeezing his thighs tightly. His fingers squeaked against his soap-slicked skin in a grip that, when it came from Bane, never failed to send a shiver of desire through him, no matter how tired.

"Only if you wish me more active in it."

Bane laughed lowly just behind his ear as he dipped his tongue out to taste clean skin. "I suppose I will have my work cut out for me, coaxing your lazy body into climax."

Barsad could not help but laugh softly despite his mood, and when Bane laid him out damp on the bed, he touched him with no small measure of dedication and perseverance. Barsad was licking over his lips in no time, parting them for a low moan that Bane pulled from him.

The corners of Bane's eyes crinkled when he smiled at his reaction. "There we are, friend. You are well worth a little effort."

Barsad pulled him down, kissed him, and relaxed more as he hooked his legs around his waist, urged him to take him until he was being pounded down into the mattress with powerful thrusts that made him forget the stress of the day, made him forget everything but the sparks of pleasure that Bane forced out of his body with each angled jolt of his hips. Soon he could only focus on the movement, on his hands digging into powerful muscle, on Bane's low groans as their foreheads pressed together, as Bane stole kisses, boldly sliding his tongue into Barsad’s  mouth in a way he never could before, flicking at his own until they were both gone.

Barsad's orgasm hit him roughly as Bane's thrusts knocked the air from him. He sighed, pet the back of Bane's neck when he went still above him in his own. Bane only chuckled and pulled him to lie over his chest when Barsad scolded him for making them need another shower.

"How was the class in my absence?"

"Good, though the children missed you, Felix in particular."

"I will have to make it up to them," Bane promised.

Barsad patted his forearm. "I'm sure they will just be happy to see you back."

It was true enough. The children held a fair amount of awe in them for Bane. It wasn't unusual after a lesson for them to beg to be allowed to hang off of his arms, a request he often indulged and which was met with shouts of laughter.

Barsad cleaned up, tugging on a pair of pants, and lit up a cigarette, perching on the edge of the bed, not surprised when Bane stayed on the bed with him, but noting how his fingers pulled at the edge of the sheet.

"What is it?"

He paused his motion and glanced at him, lips slowly pulling into a rueful smile. "Is it so obvious?" He sighed then, rubbing his hands together for a moment. "Talia's birthday is tomorrow."

"Ah, a happy birthday to her," Barsad smiled. "Have you gotten her a gift?"

Bane rubbed his hand over his face briefly. "Therein lies the problem. She told me she doesn't want something material. She would rather a trip here."

Bane smacked sharply over Barsad’s thigh when he could not hold back his amused laughter. "This would not be funny to you, were you in my place."

"Has she even..." his voice trailed off, not wishing to insult.

Bane gave him a bland look. "I am not so foolishly hopeful to think she has not been in any sort of relationship. We have," he paused, clearly trying how to figure out how to word it without his trauma showing, "discussed such things before, and she agreed, for my peace of mind, that she would take precautions. However, she has quite cheerfully informed me that she has found no man worth a relationship as of yet, but she would still like to enjoy herself without the 'strings' that come with one."

"So she asked you to buy her a whore."

"She said that I have no right to deny her it when I see you every week. Unfortunately, I find her logic to be mortifyingly sound."

Barsad looked at him thoughtfully. “You always surprise me with your way of thinking, Bane. Most men try to lock up any female charges at eighteen, and pay for their boys to become men.”

Bane snorted and waved his hand dismissively. “Talia is her own woman, and any who would try to lock her up at any age would not live to speak of it… Do they even take women here?”

Barsad laughed lightly. “Certainly. I do have female clients, too, you know. Anyone in mind?”

“Perhaps… picking out her partner would be a bit far for me.”

“But you are willing to pay for it. Surely you have put some thought to it. Selina, perhaps? She is quite good with her mouth.”

Bane gave him a slight look and Barsad bit back a laugh. Selina had been curious about Bane at one time… had perhaps slightly propositioned him… He now avoided her in the halls as much as possible. "Absolutely not. What about Crane?”

Bane had met Crane in passing to the kitchen; Barsad paused and considered how to phrase it delicately. “Looks can be deceiving with that one. I do not think he would be… size appropriate. Blake, perhaps? He might enjoy the change of pace, and he still says that he is not gay.”

“That is… charming.”

“I am quite aware.”

Bane sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Would it be forward of me to ask if you would do the honors?”

Barsad stilled in surprise. “Perhaps… but then, when have we not been forward with one another in such matters?”

“Then I wish for it to be you.”

He hesitated. “Will that not be awkward for you?”

“It may be, but if she is to do this, I wish for her to have the best.”

Barsad decided that if Bane did not find such a thing awkward, then he should certainly not, either. It was simply business, after all. "Very well; have her set up an appointment with me."

"Thank you," Bane paused and looked at him, seeming to try to find the right words.

"I will take good care of her; I promise, friend," Barsad told him, watching the other man relax and smile slightly.

"I know you will."

When he left, Barsad rifled through his contacts list, placing calls with regulars until he found one that was willing to fill his night and several to fill out his day tomorrow so he could politely decline Blake's company for a while. He was very happy for him; there were few that got to do a job that they'd wanted their entire life, and Barsad was certain he would excel in it.

He lay back, tucked an arm behind his head as he smoked, and fought back an unfair sense of bitterness in himself. It was no one's fault, certainly, but it did not escape him that the one time he had finally stepped forward, entered into a deeper relationship with someone, now it would be ending.

A very small part of him thought about the notion of leaving the brothel and joining him, but he brushed it aside. It wasn't fair to foist that kind of thing on John, who Barsad knew would likely agree, whether he truly wanted it or not, just so that Barsad was not kept here. It would be best to make it a clean cut now. John was a good man; he would probably try to insist things could be worked out, that their relationship did not have to change, but dragging such things out would only make it harder in the end.

Barsad was not childish enough to think that simply avoiding Blake would solve things, or that it made for a clean break, but he needed some time to close things off on his end first, so he could be rational during what would inevitably be an argument. He sent him a text, telling him he had an appointment so it would not get interrupted.

He felt a pang in his chest when he stepped out of his room later that night to find a cooled package of takeaway at his doorway, a note declaring him a 'jerk' for not cancelling his appointment so they could celebrate with Bane, and a small heart drawn by his name and scratched out most likely in embarrassment, just barely noticeable under scribbles of ink.

____________________

"Bane!" Talia laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he sat on the couch. "I did not think you would take me seriously."

"Does that mean I will not be forced to go through with it?"

"Of course not." She kissed the back of his head. "I'm going to call him in the morning, thank you."

"I do not want to hear a word about it," he informed her firmly.

"That would be too awkward even for us," she agreed, much to his relief, before she sat down beside him on the couch. They sat together for a while, talked about the gym and classes, about the book series they were both working on, until the clock slowly ticked away to midnight.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing her cheek. "Happy birthday."

She smiled against his cheek, let him indulge in holding her for a few moments, rubbing his back. "Thank you."

He watched as she sat back, unable to help spending a quiet moment reflecting on how much she had grown since he had first met her, and how she had changed his life. He had been so goal-oriented before; he still was, but she had given him purpose, someone to focus on, someone who needed him and who he had ended up needing in return. Tragedy had brought them together, but it had made them strong.

She tilted her head at him, breathed out softly in amusement. "Will you be lost in thought all night?"

"Do not tease me, or I will arrange for all of the gym to sing to you," he threatened mildly.

"They are all more scared of me than you," she replied confidently, and with good reason. He had long ago acknowledged that she ran the gym more than he did, and did so with an adept efficiency. He pulled her back into his arms, sifting through her hair a moment, ignoring her mild protest.

"I have something for you."

"I told you I didn't want you to buy me anything," she said scoldingly.

"I did not," he promised, reaching under the couch to pull out the small box. "It’s something I have been holding onto for you."

Her eyes were curious when she opened the tiny box. Her face softened in understanding, recognition of the delicate ruby ring inside.

There had not been much opportunity to go through Melisande's things; he had had no one to watch Talia at the time, and he would not take her back to the apartment, but this he had put away for her, something he had seen on her mother's finger whenever he saw her, no doubt a keepsake she would have wanted her daughter to have.

"I had it resized for you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath and nodding. It was a quiet moment between them when he took her hand and held it. She never cried, not since that night, too strong for it. She had told him once that she would not indulge in self-pity when he had sacrificed so much for her. She stroked her slender fingers over his briefly before she slid the ring onto her finger.

"Thank you."

They spent the next day together. He wouldn't allow her to go to work, even though she tried. He insisted that their employees could certainly keep things together for one day of their absence.

"Clearly you do not know some of our employees," she had argued at first, but she relented finally, going out to the park with him to enjoy the sun. She sat with him on a park bench, and they fed the birds scraps of bread. The sun was warm, a bit too warm with his scarf. She noticed the slight sheen of sweat on his brow and took his hand.

"Do you think you will ever go out without it?" she asked, not scolding, not judging; it was a soft question, hopeful for him. He had told her about Felix, about taking off his scarf for the children. Each time he did it, he felt a wave of anxiousness at being so exposed, but it was waning.

"I think that one day I will." He looked at her and they shared a smile that he knew she could see even with the scarf.


	23. Chapter 23

He invited her to the class at the boys home, and perhaps that had been a mistake from the way the older boys tried to act up to show off for her. Barsad had not been able to make the class, which was a shame, but he had Blake to work with, and by the end of it Talia was joining in, as well, earning stunned looks for her lightening-quick punches.

A couple of softened blows to the bigger boys earned their horrified awe.

While they untaped their wrists and cleaned up, he could not help but notice that Blake was unusually quiet.

"It is good to finally meet you awake and in person, John." Talia looked at him appraisingly, seeming to approve of what she saw in him.

"It's nice to see you, too." He dug through his gym bag, not looking up until she placed a hand on his arm and surprised him into turning his head.

"Most people have to actually look to see another person," she informed him. It got a guilty but amused look.

"I'm sorry, yeah; it really is good to meet you. Bane talks about you a lot."

Bane looked John over. "Is something troubling you?"

He shrugged. "I'm probably just worried over nothing." He looked at Talia and hesitated before finally answering, "I think Barsad skipped out today because he's avoiding me."

"Why would he do that?" Bane questioned, setting down his gear and turning his full attention to him.

"I just got a new job," Blake answered, "and I didn't get it at first, but I think he's thinking it means we're done." His eyes narrowed. "And he's got another fucking thing coming if he thinks I'm just letting him go like that."

____________________

Blake could see the sympathy in Bane's eyes, but he brushed it aside because he didn't need it. Yeah, he knew that they'd only started dating because they both were working as hookers, but it was bullshit for Barsad to act like that was the only way they could stay together. He would just have to knock the sense of that into Barsad as soon as he came out of hiding. He still had a month of his short-term contract left, anyway, and they would work something out.

He just had to keep telling himself that to combat the queasy feeling in his stomach.

"I could talk to him?" Bane suggested, sounding unsure. It was a nice gesture, but even though Bane had been the one to guide them together, Blake recognized this was something that they were going to need to work out between them. He couldn't just expect Bane to come in and fix it. He wasn't their couples counselor.

Besides, maybe it would help them in the long run. Blake could prove to Barsad that it was quite possible to date outside of his job occupation, and he could go out with Bane, too, and maybe, just maybe, John could get in on that a little bit, because apparently when he accepted something about himself he _really_ accepted it, and he really wasn't opposed to winding up in bed with them together again. He knew of people with stranger relationships.

Beyond that, Bane was a really great guy, really great. He knew he shouldn't exactly be trying to set his boyfriend up with someone, but they'd already accepted that they weren't exactly the most normal pair in the world. They were, however, perfectly functional together, and would continue to be so even with him leaving the brothel. He would just have to make Barsad see that for himself.

He shook his head. He was being rude. It was Talia's birthday, and if she was important to Bane, then she was definitely important to him, too.

"If you don't have plans, I'd like to buy you both dinner," he offered. "I mean, we’d have to eat at your place since I don't think Talia exactly needs to be going to the brothel, but my treat."

Talia laughed softly and Bane made a slight face as he wound his scarf back up.

"I will be going to the brothel for a visit soon enough on my own."

"Oh." He blinked, uncertain what to say beyond that.

Talia merely patted Bane's arm. "I am going to set up an appointment with your boyfriend."

"Oh," Blake repeated dumbly. That was, well, that was something. He couldn't help giving Talia a brief look over at that, completely unintentional, but she was quite gorgeous and now he also couldn't help but imagine her with Barsad and felt a sudden tightening in his pants. "Well, you have fun with that."

They ended up back at Bane and Talia's home, anyway. He'd tried to text Barsad, but was unsurprised when he was busy and was asked to wish Talia a happy birthday. They sat around their kitchen counter with boxes of takeout and a small cake Bane had gotten for her without her knowledge. It was really nice; it would have been even nicer with the inclusion of one more, but he found that he really liked Talia. She was smart, and it was obvious she was much wiser than her years, that she looked out for Bane just as much as he looked out for her.

By the end of the night, he'd relaxed, forgotten the bullshit he was dealing with. Bane offered to walk back with him to the brothel once Talia excused herself for the night, and he found himself taking him up on it.

"Thank you for spending the evening with us, Blake; neither of us have many other acquaintances," Bane admitted as they walked through the emptying streets. "I fear what a bad influence I've been for her when all of her associates either work under her or are whores that I have been intimate with."

That had him laughing, especially when Bane seemed to realize it could be taken offensively and tried to stumble over an apology. "No, no, it's really ok, and I get it. I don't exactly have a lot of friends, either. I like her; she's really, well, not sweet, but you can tell how much you both care about each other."

Bane smiled, hidden away, but John could see the corner of his eyes crinkle. "I cannot imagine my life without her."

"I can't imagine having kids," he admitted. "I mean, I love them, but raising another person?" He shrugged.

"You would be good at it, if you chose to," Bane assured him. “You should have seen me stumble through the dark teaching myself how to treat her.”

John chuckled. "Well, you did it right. I'm still learning how to treat anyone I'm close to alright. It's hard," he said softly. "I'm not used to having someone to care about."

Bane looked at him as they walked, and then slowly wrapped a reassuring arm around his shoulder. He was warm, and he made John feel a little smaller than he liked to admit. It was nice, though; he found himself leaning into him as they reached the front doors of the brothel.

"I think that if you fight for this, you will keep it, and if I can help you in any way, I will," Bane promised, and Blake suddenly found himself wrapped up in a hug. He felt embarrassed, at first. He wasn't a hugger, but Bane was, well, Bane, warm and seeming protective of him in a way that made his stomach feel warm. He wrapped his arms around him in return for a few moments. He smelled good, felt good with the warm wool of his scarf against his cheek.

"Thanks. I'm sure you'll hear how it goes."

Barsad was really good at making himself busy. John decided texting was straight out and called Barsad on his cell phone after he'd been successfully avoided for two days.

"Yes, Blake?" Barsad answered, and John hated that he'd suddenly become "Blake" again for Barsad.

"Yeah, I'd like to set up an appointment."

"Blake," he made an amused noise, "I am really very busy."

"So I noticed, jackass; that's why I'm setting up an appointment."

"That is very cute, Blake, but I have to go now. I'll talk to you later."

"When later?"

"When I am not busy," Barsad said firmly before hanging up.

It was really hard convincing someone you were supposed to stay together when they'd already written you off and weren't willing to even talk to you. So John had to play a little dirty. It hadn't been intentional, actually he'd been loitering in the foyer with Selina, talking to her about jewelry—a subject he was quickly realizing he had absolutely no knowledge in, but she made it interesting and he found he liked talking to her. It took his mind off of things.

He had been surprised to see Talia come in until he remembered her talking about visiting.

"I didn't know you'd be coming today," he said, taking her coat for her. "Bane didn't mention it."

"Bane wishes to pretend I'm not here at the moment," she told him, clearly amused. "How is he?"

"You'll have to ask him yourself," he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, "I haven't talked to him since I last talked to you."

She furrowed her brow at that. "He's still avoiding you? You should simply barge in on him."

"Yeah, and piss him off and a client. He’s already closed off enough as it is."

"He's avoiding everyone," Selina agreed. "Stubborn baby isn't answering my texts, either."

Talia shook her head. "Do you understand how annoying it is to have watched him and Bane dance around each other for so long, and now this? He was at least happy that Barsad had found someone to be content with."

John hadn't realized how much Talia knew, even though after meeting her he really should have. He felt a little bad, that she knew how obviously the two felt about each other. He was just glad she didn't seem to bear him any ill will because of it. Of course, according to Bane, she'd known about the threesome, and she was raised by Bane, so she was more relaxed about the whole different things working for different people.

"He has to wear himself out sometime," he pointed out. "I'm hoping to catch him sooner or later."

Talia pursed her lips, clearly in thought, and then shook her head. "You will talk to him now."

"I can't, he's go—" he stopped, surprised, and cautiously hopeful. "Really? Are you sure?"

"I can always reschedule. This is important."

"Why reschedule?" Selina practically purred, and John couldn't help but swallow a little when he saw her casually look over Talia. "I'm sure we could work something out, since you're being so generous."

When Talia looked interested, he swore softly, eliciting a throaty chuckle from Selina. "Off you go, kid. The girls are talking."

He nodded. As hot as the images his brain was happily presenting him with were, he wasn't going to lose the chance he was being given. "Thanks, Talia; I owe you."

"You do," she agreed before turning her attention back to Selina.


	24. Chapter 24

When he knocked on the door, he was met with a very polite, "come in." He couldn't help but smile a little when he noticed it wasn't Barsad's sultry tone for other clients. It was warm, welcoming for Talia. He'd probably hate it if it was pointed out. Maybe later.

The warm and welcoming was gone when he came in. Barsad had been just finishing making his bed, stopping when he realized it was Blake, his face carefully guarded.

"Blake, I have an appointment."

"Yeah, you have an appointment with me. Talia gave me her time slot."

"I don't—"

"Barsad, PLEASE," it hurt more than a bit to see him so closed off after a couple of days of being completely ignored, "please, just talk to me."

"I—" He stopped, fingers gripping into the sheets before he smoothed them again, not looking at him. "I wished to wait, but there is nothing really to discuss, Blake."

"Like hell there isn't." Blake shook his head and walked over to sit down on the bed, grabbing his wrist when Barsad tried to casually pull away. "No, come on; you're going to at least look at me while you try to break up with me," he said as he did his best not to glare.

He was working hard not to get angry, he was working _really_ hard not to get angry because angry wasn't going to fix things, if anything it was going to drive Barsad away more, but he still felt it roiling under his skin. He hadn't felt it so bad since the night he'd found out about St. Swithin’s’ funding getting cut.

He took a breath, then took another when he let go of Barsad's hand and clenched his hands instead to try and calm down.

"Just TALK to me."

He wasn't going to blow up like some stupid kid. He was going to be rational, more rational than Barsad was being, anyway.

Barsad who was barely looking at him even though he'd finally sat down quietly on the bed beside him, giving him the briefest of glances when he heard John drawn in a slow, shaky breath.

"There is very little to discuss, Blake," he said again. "I am very happy for you, but we can't stay together like this with you leaving."

"Yeah, no offense, but that's bullshit. We can stay together. You're the only one who thinks we can't."

Barsad shook his head. "And how will that work, Blake?"

"We make it work, Barsad. That's what people DO when they're in relationships. It'll be the same as it was before, I just won't be here."

"And what will we do at night?" Barsad challenged. "You can't stay in my bed each night, Ra's is not going to let you if you don't live here anymore. I cannot go to your bed. I have clients to consider each night, work at all hours depending on when appointments are desired."

"We don't have to spend every night in bed. I'll miss sleeping beside you, but you can always come over when you don't have early appointments or a day off."

"Yes. At first," Barsad nearly spat the words out, "it will work at first, and then we will both be busy, have less time for each other, see each other every few weeks instead of every few days, until suddenly there is nothing anymore, we have drifted apart." He stood stiffly. "I would rather have this hurt now, be a quick cut, than something that aches and drags on."

"Is that what—"

Barsad cut him off. "It is what happens to everyone. I won't let it happen to me, not again."

"You don't know it's going to fucking be like that!"

"I know well enough. No one wants to date a whore."

"You're right, I don't want to just date a whore, I want to date YOU. I also didn't want to date a guy and I want to date you. Did you forget about that? Clearly I'm willing to do things for you that I wouldn't have even dreamed of before," Blake spat out.

"I'm sorry that you had to lower your standards for me," Barsad replied dryly, standing up from the bed.

"That's not what I mean!" He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. "Jesus, do you even know how much I care about you? How crazy you make me feel inside?" He felt his throat getting tight. "I've never been as close to anyone as I have been to you, and you just want to toss it away because you're so sure it won't work that you won't even try?"

Barsad looked down at him and sighed. John closed his eyes when his fingers carded through his hair. "I'm doing this for both of us. It will be better in the long run." _When I'm right_ , was clearly Barsad's thought unfinished.

"Are you really going to spend the rest of your life like this? Pushing everyone away? You need to get out of this fucking place, Barsad. You're letting it close you off from everyone because you WANT it to."

"You wish me to give up my life for you?"

"No, this isn't about me, anymore; this isn't even about us.  You need to give up this job so you can actually live, but that's a fucking scary thing, isn't it?" Blake growled and pulled away from his hold. "You could do it. You've got connections, you can't tell me you don't have money put away, I've seen how much you make and how little you spend, but that'd just be too real for you, right? You'd actually have to connect with people out there and not slam the door in their face the second they get too close!"

Blake let out a shocked yell when Barsad shoved him back onto the bed, climbed over him, kissed him roughly. "Do you think" he asked, voice harsh after he bit into his lip, "that this is easy for me? That I haven't thought of you each day? That I _want_ to let you go?"

"Then don't. Don't fucking let me go, please," he whispered, threading his hands into Barsad's hair, pulling him back down for a kiss, rough but sweet, pouring all of his anger and pent-up frustrations of the past week into it. He felt how the tenseness in Barsad's frame loosened over him, how their bodies shifted together more.

"John..." he sighed his name out against his lips. "I don't want you to go," he admitted softly. "I don't want to miss you."

"Then don't. Don't miss me," he pleaded, wrapping himself around him more, feeling the slight shake in Barsad's body before he brushed their cheeks together, his arms sliding under Blake’s back to wrap around him.

"This is foolish; completely stupid on our parts. What do you expect, for me to come live away in your new apartment like a kept whore?"

Blake laughed, he couldn't help it. He rolled them and crowded Barsad more, hugging him. "No, you have to pay half the rent as soon as you get a new job."

Barsad made an unsure sound. "What if it takes some time?"

"It takes what it takes. We'll scrape by," he promised. "Will you come with me? I..." he hesitated, kissing his forehead. "No, as much as I want you to, don't just do it for me. If it's just for me, stay here. We'll work it out, I promise, even with you here. We'll work it out."

Barsad pulled back to look at him, clearly taking a moment to clear his thoughts, weigh things over more seriously. Blake knew it was important, but he couldn't help his stomach dropping over seeing Barsad's brow furrow in deep thought.

He finally slid his hand into Blake’s. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we would work it out if I stayed... but perhaps I am tired of this place."

Blake sucked in a hopeful breath and squeezed his hand. "Not just for me?" he checked warily.

"Not just for you. You are my ‘something out there’ now, but I want to leave for myself, too; for both of us." His voice trailed off.

"Maybe even for Bane?" Blake guessed, and after a long moment Barsad nodded, laid his head against his chest.

"Perhaps for him, too; for all of us. You are right." He snorted softly and sighed when John ran his fingers through his hair. "I have been trying to coax him out of hiding for so long, and yet here I have been hiding myself away just as badly. I don't wish to do it anymore." He leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of Blake’s jaw. "Let's leave this place together."

____________________

Bane worked through a sink of bubbles and steamy water. It was a mundane act, and they had a dishwasher, but he often found he preferred to do the task himself as a way to wind down. The day before had been a difficult one. He had been met with the unpleasant and far too sudden news that Barsad would be leaving the brothel the very next day.

"Why did you not tell me sooner?" he had asked, unable to hide his upset at the notion.

"Because I knew that every visit you would be ticking down the days, letting it cloud your pleasure." Barsad had touched his shoulder as he looked down into his hands, knowing he was correct. "It is not goodbye, Bane. I promise."

"May I have you, one final time?" he had not been able to help asking.

Barsad had chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "I would be insulted if you did not. I saved you as my last client."

He had spread Barsad out on the bed, pressed his lips across every bit of skin that he could, slid into him and tried not to let the ache in his heart get the better of him as they spent the night together. He knew that he would see him soon, as a friend, at St. Swithin’s, and perhaps even out, but he knew he would miss what else they had shared.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a knock on the door, wiping his hands onto a dry cloth before going to the coat rack, fingers touching onto his scarf. He hesitated before he let his hand drop. This was his home, and he should have no reason to hide himself away here. That was what he told himself when he let his fingers linger on the door knob, pulling it open after another moment.

He had certainly not expected to see the object of his daydreaming standing before him, covered in sweat and more than one streak of dirt.

"Hello, handsome." Barsad held his hand out. "I am Barsad."

Bane stared at his hand uncertainly for a moment, confused, perhaps even more confused when Blake was suddenly behind Barsad, arms wrapped around him, his face set into an amused smirk and equally coated with grime.

"And I'm John. What's your name?"

"I don't..." His brow furrowed, completely lost at what game they were playing, but he shook Barsad's hand anyway, and then John's for good measure, apparently. "I am Bane?"

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Bane." John's fingers lingered over his for a moment. "We're your new neighbors."

They laughed together at his startled look, how he craned his head past them to indeed see an open apartment a door or two across, packing boxes just barely visible from his angle. Talia had mentioned they would be getting new neighbors soon enough, but he had had no idea, they had made no mention of this surprise, and now he wondered just how much she had known.

"Bane," Barsad drew his attention back to them, took his hand, rubbing his fingers over his knuckles slowly. "I know this is sudden," his lips curled into an amused smile, "seeing as how we have only just met... But you seem almost familiar to me, as if we have known each other a very long time, and I was wondering if you would perhaps like to join my boyfriend and me for dinner?" His voice lowered seductively and there was no missing his meaning behind the words.

He felt as though his head was nearly swimming from the sudden change in circumstances.

"I don't understand," he finally admitted, feeling baffled, and they at last seemed to take pity on him.

John took his other hand, squeezing it. "We decided on a fresh start," he explained, "but, well, we'd like you to be part of it, if you'd like to be," he corrected himself. "It could be just you and Barsad having dinner. I'm ok with that, but just to warn you, he doesn't put out on the first date."

Barsad turned and pulled John in for a kiss. Bane watched as they slotted together perfectly, how they were wrapped up for a brief moment of genuine affection before Barsad glanced back at him.

"I think," he punctuated his words with a lighter kiss to the corner of John's mouth, "that he would be rather foolish to not accept dinner from us both."

Bane found that when they both leaned into him, pressed up against him to each take a kiss for themselves, that he was very hard pressed to disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue tomorrow guys! It's been fun. :)


	25. Chapter 25

It had not happened easily for any of them, or without several stumbling blocks in their path. They worked through them, though, tried to keep in mind where they were all coming from, that this was something new for each of them, something different from what most people had, and it was something fragile. Having Talia to order some sense into them on occasion helped. There was just a little problem in that all of them could not seem to help but be worried about intruding into the others’ relationships.

It didn't seem to matter that they were all together now, that Bane and John had decided they would like to pursue the growing feelings between them, as well. They each worried about jealousy that wasn't there, about getting in the way.

"Technically, you were there first," John pointed out to Bane one day.

"I don't ever want to come between you and John," Bane argued in turn to Barsad.

"I would very much like for you to come between us, actually," Barsad responded flippantly. And, well, that was certainly not the response Bane had expected.

Bane laughed in amusement and reached to rub through Barsad's locks. "I was being serious."

Barsad shrugged, leaned back into the kitchen chair and looked him over thoughtfully. "Who said I was not?"

They'd been just finishing up dinner in John and Barsad's shared apartment. Job hunting was going fairly well, Barsad had some interviews set up from various connections, but he found himself with a lot of free time and so he'd spent it cooking dinner for them that night. Inviting Bane over had become second nature when Talia was out. When she was in, they usually ended up in their apartment, instead, sweating over her food.

Bane wiped his mouth slowly, setting down his napkin before he cleared his throat. "Are you perhaps, implying something you wish of me?" he asked cautiously while he felt his body heat up slightly. The idea was intriguing to say the least and, well, Barsad was quite skilled at making them forget that they had been having a small quarrel.

John laughed, leaned over and gave Bane's arm a warm squeeze. "Don't think we haven't thought about it, big guy."

"You have discussed it?" He couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed at the notion. He certainly did feel like an interloper in their relationship at times. They lived together now, slept in the same bed, but Bane came and interrupted that several times a week, enough that even though he lived just across the hall, they'd cleaned out a drawer for him for clothes to change into, had put a toothbrush for him in the bathroom.

John nodded, draining the last of his glass of wine. "Yeah, well, it just seemed like a good time to talk about it."

It was a nearly innocent remark, but then Bane saw where his eyes had wandered. He paused then laughed slowly, glancing at the stack of envelopes between them all on the table. "I cannot help but think that this conversation comes at a rather convenient time."

Test results. They had agreed that if it was just the three of them, then perhaps it was time for another screening for them all, just to be safe. They were all fairly certain that there was nothing to worry about, with precautions having been taken, but waiting for results hurt nothing, and now those unopened stacks had arrived and had sat on the table throughout dinner, a quiet reminder that they might take things a step further tonight.

Barsad snapped them up, shuffling the envelopes between his fingers. "It simply seems that perhaps something special is called for, to celebrate."

"You do not even know the results, and you wish to celebrate?" Bane asked.

"I am trying to learn to be more optimistic," Barsad returned. "Shall we confirm that we indeed have something to celebrate?" He passed around the envelopes and there was the rip of paper from each of them before they scanned over the results.

"All clean," John smirked, and Bane nodded in agreement, Barsad chuckled and held his own out.

"There, see? Now we may celebrate."

Celebrating meant persuading Bane that dishes could truly wait until the morning if they were left to soak. It meant sending Talia a text and telling her not to expect him home that evening.  It also meant cleaning up from the day, meant tangled, soapy limbs in the shower when John snuck into it with him when he was being impatient after Barsad had beaten him to it first.

"So, are you going to let us?" John dropped his head back onto Bane’s shoulder and let him scrub the gel from his hair before he turned around to face him, smirking. "I bet you'd really like it."

"I have no doubt that both of you would strive to make it very pleasurable for me."

"Of course!" Barsad called out from outside of the shower as he dried himself. The clear glass pane put them on display for him, and he watched as he combed through his hair. "How else might we ensure a repeat performance?"

Bane's chuckle turned to a groan as John scrubbed his nails across his chest, his shoulders, pushing into the muscle firmly.

"Come on, turn around. Better yet," he sounded contemplative for a moment, "how about you face the door."

So that Barsad could get a better view, no doubt. He felt a wave of almost shyness at the notion. They were far more used to being on display than he was, but he had watched them together more than once now when they felt playful enough to put on a show, and he been encouraged that they found him to be handsome, had been coaxed into touching himself for them for a show of their own. He agreed after a moment and pressed himself against the smooth glass. He could see through the slight layer of steam buildup that Barsad had discarded his towel, was now leaning against the sink, bare and watching them, dressed only in a slight smirk.

John rubbed a slippery hand down his side, kissed the clean skin on his back. "There yah go." He scrubbed down him, pressing his fingers carefully against his spine. The pressure and hot water worked loose the knots, relaxing him until his head pressed against the glass and he sighed.

Bane's lips parted and he licked water from them uncertainly when John's fingers slipped lower, scraping across the curve of his ass and sliding inward. It was a strange feeling, but he could certainly not fault them for wishing to try it with him, and he could admit he was curious, curious enough to spread his legs apart in the shower stall to give John better access.

"Thanks," John chuckled, and Bane worked to stay relaxed, to keep an open mind as John's fingers stroked further inward, trailing warm and slippery over his hole, the water from the shower trickling down with them. It was strange, not unpleasant but strange, to have someone else touching there, to feel John press lightly, draw slow circles with the pads of his fingers, dragging against sensitive skin in a way that had his breathing speeding up steadily, his blood warming slowly.  

"I think that he likes it," Barsad remarked quietly through the glass.

"How does he look?" John asked, and Bane felt his hands squeak across the glass, jolting a little when Blake slowly began to press a finger into him.

"Startled, but like he is warming up to the idea."

Bane's eyes went to Barsad’s, and he felt slightly flushed from not only the heat of the shower but how the slighter man's blue eyes watched him with a possessive quality to them. He found them hard to look away from, even as he felt his eyes drifting shut. The slow press of John’s finger was still strange, but it felt good, even as he carefully worked another in, stretched him open in a way that burned but sent a thrill through his body. It was made even nicer by how John’s lips were at his spine, biting and running his tongue in a slow trail downwards.

When John’s fingers hooked slightly and pushed in, he felt a sudden, strange throb in his body. It raced down his spine and felt as though it shot straight through to his cock. His surprise must have shown, because John and Barsad laughed lightly together, and John stroked his fingers over the sensitive nerves again, making him gasp quietly.

____________________

John couldn't help but feel smug at the slight tremor that ran through Bane's body. When they'd talked about doing this to Bane before, and it was a discussion that he and Barsad had happily had with one another in bed at night when the other man's company was missed, they'd talked about what would be the best to ensure Bane would be open to a second attempt.

He felt him squeeze around his fingers tightly each time they skated over his prostate. Bane’s back was tensing again, and his fingers kept sliding across the glass restlessly. John couldn't see his face, but he had Barsad for that.

"How about now?"

"He likes it; I can tell," Barsad was happy to inform him. "He looks wonderful. He's going to pant soon; he has that look on him, the one he gets when we blow him together."

"I love that look," John answered as he slid down further. His knees hit the slippery tiles, and he couldn’t resist biting at the thick muscle of Bane's thigh. "It's a really good look."

A low growl rumbled from Bane when he nipped at the curve of his ass, and John happily filed that bit of information away for further use later.

He pulled his fingers away slowly and let the water wash away the suds before he bit again.

"Just keep relaxing for me." He chuckled softly at the quick intake of breath when he kissed his way inward, pressing his lips against the furled skin there before Bane realized his intentions, and he could feel the tightening in his thigh where he held it as he ran his tongue across him slowly. The response was an immediate, uncertain moan, which had John smirking. It was only fair; Bane had made him come absolutely undone on his tongue before, had licked with the kind of dedication he honestly thought he'd only have ever felt while he was doing a video shoot.

Speaking of, he was more than happy to put his own remembered skills to work and give Bane back as good as he'd gotten. The uncertainty left the moans as he worked his tongue across him, played with the sensitive circle of skin with his tongue, lapping at him as he reached between his legs and took hold of his cock, giving the heavy, flushed flesh slow strokes and squeezes as he dipped his tongue into him.

Bane growled out his name roughly in a tone he only had with them when they were fucking, possessive, like he'd let go of all of the worries about being intrusive and was claiming them with just their names. It always sent a shiver through John, made him work harder to please than he would have liked to admit.

It always affected Barsad, too. He could hear movement outside of the shower stall. Barsad was up against the glass, and John knew he was pressing a hand against Bane's, wishing there wasn't a barrier between them.

"Does his tongue feel good inside of you?"

When Bane didn't answer, John could almost hear the smirk in Barsad's tone when he spoke again. "Ah, you have always been a bit easier to render speechless than I, haven't you?"

Bane's only response was a sigh, then a groan as though he was trying to speak but was cut off by John mercilessly thrusting his tongue into him until he quickly abandoned the idea. John worked up a rhythm, wondered if he could get Bane off from just his hand on his dick and his tongue in him, but Barsad wrapped his knuckles on the glass lower when he maybe ignored him the first time or two he suggested they come out of the shower.

"Share, greedy."

"Like you wouldn't do the same," he shot back, rubbing Bane's thigh at the disappointed sound he made when he pulled back, admiring how wet he'd gotten him before he placed a light kiss there and finally stood up, turning off the water. "Come on; Barsad wants a turn."

"To undo me, as well, no doubt," Bane mumbled out thickly, turning around, surprising John by kissing him without hesitation. "It felt very good, thank you."

"Keep letting us play and it'll feel even better," John promised, and Bane nodded in agreement. They cleaned up a little and toweled dry with Barsad who tugged on John's hair when he tried to take a minute to brush it, making him bat at his hands and give up on the idea, instead ending up on the bed with them, clean and damp.

____________________

Barsad was glad to see Bane still hard for them even with a brief stopping. He climbed onto him for a demanding kiss; being forced to only watch through glass while his lovers touched and Bane was shown new sensations and pleasures had been its own sort of torture, but that had been John's turn and now it was his. He rocked slowly so their cocks slid against one another, pressed up tight between their bellies as he kissed over Bane's scars, his lips, as he gripped the thick muscle in his arms.

It would have been easy to get carried away, to slick himself and ride Bane to oblivion, but he reminded himself that they had something else in mind, and as he kissed he slid from him, guided Bane to lie on his side as he pressed a final kiss to him.

"We'll take you right between us, where you belong," he informed him happily as he patted his hip. A quick glance to John showed that he had gotten out the lube, notably without the condoms, and was working it into himself with a practiced ease, something that always caught Bane's eye.

Barsad took the bottle for himself, spooning behind Bane and working slick fingers into him, feeling how tight he was even after the play in the shower. Bane pressed back at his fingers, was relaxed until Barsad wickedly twisted his fingers into him, drawing out the same noises that John had, teasing his fingers back until Bane was pushing back against them experimentally.

"You're right, he does look really good," John agreed before he leaned down to kiss Bane, lay down in front of him so they were spooned and reached back to rub his side. "Come on; I'm ready."

"Have you ever without?" Bane asked, placing a hand on his hip before he slid John’s thigh forward to give himself better access.

John hesitated a moment, shook his head. "No; never agreed to it."

The answer had Bane tilting John's head back for a kiss, a quiet thank-you before he guided himself into him. Barsad leaned over them to watch, always enjoying how John's eyes lowered at Bane's thickness stretching him, how his fingers clenched into the blankets until Bane rubbed over them gently, pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

"You feel wonderful," Bane moaned out breathlessly, and John made a choked noise, only able to nod and rock back at him, whining softly when Bane took hold of his hips to keep him still. "Not yet."

"Come on," he muttered, but he let Bane rub his stomach to still him, his hand sliding lower to palm his cock.

Barsad took that as his own signal, and stroked between Bane's cheeks once more before he replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock. He was perhaps more nervous than Bane was, who was so trusting with them to the point where Barsad nearly felt guilty over his lack of ability to give it so openly in return. Bane was relaxed, and he reached back and found his hand, squeezed it slightly.

"I am ready," he whispered softly, "if you are."

It was half reassurance, half challenge, and Barsad found himself smirking slightly and rising to meet it. He let go of his hand and took hold of himself, feeling Bane hot around him, the bare slide of his skin nearly making his head spin. It was intoxicatingly intimate to work into him, to feel himself deep.

"God," he choked out, feeling silly over it, but he felt so connected, all of them together, no barriers between their bodies. It was almost too much to think about until Bane pushed back against him testingly, growling and urging him to do the same. Then it was too much to think, at all. He wrapped an arm around Bane’s chest, feeling the thick muscles, the power he was holding in his grasp as he rocked his hips.

He could hear John crying out softly, Bane fucking into him slowly, rocking back at Barsad in a commanding way that made him marvel, made him feel as though he was the one being taken. He held onto him tightly, digging his nails into his chest as he felt the delicious drag of Bane's heat being pushed back onto him.

Their movements went from slow to hurried to frantic, and each push in made him want to lose himself. Pleasure pounded through his body, pooled in his belly and tried to rush out of him at an embarrassing speed. He held on for only a few moments longer before he thrust his hips forward sharply, wanting to be as deep inside of Bane as he could be before he was coming. He heard their pleasure not long after his own raced through him and left him clinging onto Bane and sighing.

John was quick to roll over and pillow his head against Bane's chest, opposite of Barsad once they were cleaned up again. He demanded a kiss from him before asking how Bane had felt. Barsad hummed softly in amusement and kissed him back, glancing up at Bane and unable to help returning the smile on his lips, describing to John with a filthy whisper against his ear just how good Bane had felt.

John groaned. "Do I get to feel it next?" He looked up at Bane questioningly, hopefully. Bane pretended to consider it before carding his fingers through John's hair.

"I suppose it would be very unfair, otherwise. I will have to allow it."

"I could pay you." John smirked, sliding up to kiss him. Bane cuffed the back of his head but returned the kiss.

The kiss was broken by a sharp knock on the bedroom door. It made Bane jump. He rushed to pull a blanket over them all. There was only one person who would come into their apartment and had no qualms with disturbing them from whatever they were up to in the bedroom.

Barsad felt ready to shoo her off, knowing she would only be amused if it was not important, but then they all heard the softness in her tone, how it was almost uncertain when they heard the "Bane, I need to speak with you" through the door.

"Just a moment." Bane was up in an instant at hearing her, throwing on clothing and tossing some to them both before he opened the door. "Talia, what has happened?"

She looked shaken, not fearful, but like her mind was somewhere else as Bane guided her to sit on the bed. Barsad was unsure if they should leave, if this was something private, but Talia was speaking before he could ask.

"I found my father, or rather, my father found me."

Bane made a surprised noise. "How?"

Talia had been going to the brothel as far as any of them knew. It was not exactly something Bane liked to speak about, especially considering it was Selina that Barsad happened to know she was visiting. Selina had made a point to tell him just how much he had missed out on by not having his appointment with Talia, and she had also been calling him nearly daily during her downtime, knowing he was not busy at the moment, either.

"He runs the brothel. My ring, he recognized it." She touched it absently. She seemed to clear a bit, a small smile tugging at her lips. "He was less than pleased to know I was there for business. It is probably for the best you no longer frequent there."

"Ra's al Ghul is your dad?" John asked skeptically, but Barsad shrugged, stranger things had happened.

"Are you alright, Talia?" he asked instead, and Talia nodded slowly.

"It is simply a lot to take in. I never once gave the possibility of finding my father a thought.” She looked down and saw how Bane's fingers were fidgeting restlessly. She put her hand over them. "I have never felt the need. I have always had you to look after me."

That seemed to soothe Bane, and he reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek. "What will this mean?"

She laughed suddenly. "Right now? Nothing. Our reunion was far from happy, and he is quite hypocritical. He saw me leaving Selina's rooms and was so angry that he turned her out."

"Selina?" That had Barsad's attention. He could not imagine Ra's turning her out. It must be a temporary thing, brought on by a rare flash of temper in him. "I am certain it won't be permanent."

"She said the same, which leads to an interesting position…" her voice trailed off slowly. "She does not exactly have somewhere to go, and I am to blame for her expulsion..."

Bane blinked at her for a moment then was quickly shaking his head. "You cannot be serious."

"Why? You have a problem with me, honey?"

Several heads turned towards the doorway as Selina leaned against it casually, seeming almost bored, if one did not know Selina as long as Barsad had. He could tell when she felt vulnerable, how she studied her nails and looked aloof. The brothel was as much of a home as she had ever had, and to be kicked from it was no small thing.

He cleared his throat. "I do owe Selina a favor or two."

She glanced over at him, and he could see how the slope of her shoulders changed, became less rigid, more relaxed as she smiled at him slowly. "That's right, you do. And here I thought I'd never be able to collect with you leaving."

"We do not exactly have a spare room," Bane said, clearly uncomfortable at Selina's sudden entrance. He didn't exactly keep a scarf around their apartment, and this was sudden. Barsad felt for him, squeezed a hand to his shoulder, proud he was at least not trying to hide even though Barsad felt the rigidness in his muscles.

"She could stay on our couch," John pointed out. Barsad wasn't surprised that John was quick to offer. He had always given everything he had to those in need, and Selina was no different.

"Sure, I'll hear you guys fucking all of the time. It'll be just like home."

"She will be staying in our apartment, actually. She can have Bane's room, and Bane can stay in yours. It is not as though you do not end up there on most nights, anyway."

"You are kicking me out of my own apartment?" Bane raised a brow.

"Yes," Talia squeezed his hand lightly, her eyes glinting with a hint of pure deviousness, "unless you would prefer she share my bed."

The noise that left Bane sounded nearly pained at the mere idea. He shook his head quickly. "This is temporary."

Talia patted his hand. "Of course."

When they left, John was biting his lip to hold back a snicker, and Barsad rubbed Bane's back comfortingly.

"It is only temporary," Bane repeated, a hint of near desperateness to his tone, "yes?"

That had John laughing softly, pressing his face against Bane's shoulder to stifle it.

"Of course, Bane; of course," Barsad reassured him, guiding him to lie down so they could rest.

Temporary was something Selina simply did not do. She was like a cat; she did not like to be moved, and when she did, she settled down there, quite intent to stay. He couldn't bring himself to tell Bane that, though.

Besides... He did owe the woman a few favors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, it has been fun guys! Next story will start going up in a couple of days. <3 As always thank you all for your kind comments and kudos! 
> 
> http://relevantlyirreverent.tumblr.com/


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